Ganguli Bowling?

This past Thursday, I went with some friends to the bowling alley, where we enjoyed a few games of bowling.  Not long after we arrived, several Indian families began using the lane adjacent to ours.  I was intrigued to say the least - this was an opportunity to test the stereotypes that The Namesake presented, so I spent most of the remainder of my evening creeping on this Indian group.  Here are my field notes from that fateful night:

There appeared to be several families there as a group.  But there were no women - just men and children.  So where were the women?  Are all Indian men divorced like Gogol?  Oh.  Nevermind.  The women were just getting snacks.  False alarm.  I looked at what the mothers brought for their children, hoping to catch a glimpse of some homemade Bengali snack.  Cheez Its.  Come on.  Would it kill these people to do something Indian?  It was a big group consisting of maybe twelve people, with several separate families.  Or perhaps they were all one extended family, like the Ganguli family out to bowl - I was encouraged by this culturally relevant possibility.  My hope faded quickly as the night wore on, though - they did absolutely nothing Indian.  I did not hear a word of Bengali or any other foreign language, and they spoke English well from what I could hear.  All of them wore distinctly American clothing, though some appeared to be a bit well dressed for the bowling alley.  One teenage girl did bear a striking resemblance to the young Moushumi (I caught a glimpse of a mustache), but I dismissed this as irrelevant.  They were even good at bowling, which I would consider a primarily American activity.  This family had clearly assimilated well into American society.  Or perhaps they were Indian spies intent on gathering information on American customs.  One of the children wandered over toward our lane.  I considered kidnapping him and using him as a bargaining chip with these Indian spies.  Though I would be an American hero, I decided against it considering the potential legal ramifications.  So I sank back into the shadows, bowled a cool 96, and was on my way.

Overall, this experience helped me realize that not all Indian families cling to their past like the Gangulis.  Some, like the one or ones I saw, have adapted to American society seamlessly.  Although at the time this frustrated me (I wanted them to do something stereotypically Indian), I am proud of these families.  As long as they were not actually spies, I applaud them for their ability to achieve what the Gangulis could not - feeling comfortable in America. 

Nature vs. Nurture

After reading Henry's post about Long Rice Kreger, I commented about the inevitability of Gogol's fate.  Despite this prior posting, I would like to devote an entire entry to exploring this idea.  For those who have not yet read Henry's masterpiece (and you should), it focuses on a possible child between Jillian and me.  Henry contends that this child would share many of the defining characteristics of Gogol's childhood.  However, I found myself most fascinated by the question of whether or not Gogol's parents could have averted his hatred.  Henry seems to indicate that his development was inevitable - Long Rice's childhood parallels that of Gogol, so Henry suggests that the cultural clash that Gogol experiences (as does Long Rice) affects him most profoundly.

However, I would believe that the parenting of each child has a greater impact.  This would make both Gogol and Long Rice's situations avoidable.  If, for instance, Jillian and I decided not to stress Long Rice's Asian background, he would likely grow up very differently than if we raised him in America but forced him to practice elements of Asian culture.  In Gogol's life, his parents encourage him to maintain his Indian culture, and this leads to a lot of role confusion for him - he cannot choose between the traditional Indian culture of his parents and the modern American culture he sees all around him.  The internal conflict Gogol experiences tears him apart, and he never fully recovers from this childhood trauma.  As I read about this time in Gogol's life and saw its implications later in his life, I became a bit frustrated with Gogol.  Why could he not just choose a culture and move on, or even blend them together?  Now, however, I see Gogol's dilemma from a different perspective.  Perhaps Gogol's reaction to the conflicting cultures was inevitable, but his parents could have avoided the whole situation.  They simply needed to shift the balance of cultures that Gogol had in his life, liberating him from his internal conflict.  With this in mind, Gogol does not seem to be at fault for his bitter childhood - the blames shifts more to his parents, who neglect to recognize the potential dangers of attempting to raise an Indian child in America.  Once again, Gogol's parents just have to ruin his life.

Pursuit of Happiness

As we discuss The Namesake in class, the topic inevitably seems to shift towards Gogol's happiness.  However, we always focus on certain aspects of his life that may contribute to this happiness - namely, his relationships with women, his cultural conflicts, and his parental interactions.  We seem to neglect the fact that Gogol's satisfaction need not derive from this short list of factors.  Take, for example, his job.  Why can Gogol not find fulfillment in life (the fulfillment that we so badly want him to achieve) due to his successes in the workplace?  I think he could.  I think, through success in his working life, Gogol could sort out a lot of his internal problems and lead a better life.

I recently began reading the book Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell.  This book examines the factors that contribute to high levels of success in life, as well as how that success impacts people.  For example, Gladwell looks at Olympic level sports teams - on the Canadian hockey team, an inordinate percentage of the players had birthdays between January and April.  The cutoff to play in a particular "year" of hockey falls on January first.  So children with January birthdays have an enormous advantage - as the oldest on their teams, they have an advantage in terms of size, thus they play better, join better teams, practice more, and receive better coaching.  Children with December birthdays have no hope.  Gladwell makes a similar argument for success in any field - external factors other than genetic skills or intelligence play a significant role in achievement.  He first points out the weak connections between I.Q. scores (beyond the 110-120 range) and success, and then shows the strong correlation between the affluence and cultural dynamics of a family and success.  Thus, the innate abilities one possesses only go so far - the rest depends on the individual's environment and upbringing.

Gogol obviously possesses the innate abilities that success requires.  He does well in school, attends Yale and Columbia for his higher education, and generally seems very intelligent.  So his family situation will separate him from his peers.  Unfortunately, Gogol's family moves from India to America before his birth.  This not only interferes with the family's wealth (Ashoke and Ashima could have lived comfortably for free with their parents in Calcutta) but also their culture (the conflicting cultures of America and India add a great deal of unnecessary stress to Gogol's life).  Despite this upbringing, Gogol still goes on to a fairly successful career as an architect.  However, he never really reaches his potential - he moves through the field slowly, ending the book working at a small architecture firm.  I cannot help but imagine the potential differences in Gogol's life if his family had not moved from India to the United States.  Although it meant a lot to Ashoke and Ashima, it probably hurt Gogol in the long run - with a more positive upbringing (without the cultural conflict that caused disagreements with his parents, rebelliousness in college, etc.), Gogol may have found even greater success as an architect. 

Though I cannot accurately say how such success would change his life, I can make predictions.  Success as an architect would allow Gogol to pursue his dream of having his own firm that designs buildings and homes independently.  To achieve such prosperity, his family would have had to remain in India for the aforementioned reasons (Gladwell's connection between family situation and success).  This would, in all likelihood, eliminate a great deal of stress from Gogol's life, as he would not conflicting cultures to deal with and would have fewer problems with his parents and his name (his grandmother could name him).  Overall, this adds up to a very happy, fulfilling life for Gogol.  But his parents just have to ruin it.

Would You Rather...?

After reading the majority of this book, I cannot help but imagine how I would act as Gogol.  In particular, Gogol's love life intrigues me.  Who would I pick?  Gogol finds his first real relationship with Ruth at Yale.  However, as I look back through my book, I honestly cannot find any redeeming qualities that she possesses.  It seems that the only reason they connect lies in the fact that Gogol "wishes his parents could simply accept her" (116-117).  Ruth merely represents a continuation of Gogol's rebellious streak - first the name change, now an American girlfriend.  He wants to distance himself from his family and his culture, and Gogol believes a non-Indian girlfriend accomplishes this.  I, however, have a European heritage and no desire to rebel against my parents solely to anger them, so I shall strike Ruth from the list.  Next, of course, comes Maxine.  With Maxine comes an easy, carefree lifestyle - she and Gogol seem to do nothing but shop, use the Ratliffs' lake house, eat good food, and drink expensive wine.  This sounds wonderful, so Maxine gets some bonus points.  Despite her (or her family's) wealth, Maxine remains, at heart, a selfish and superficial woman.  After the death of Ashoke separates Gogol and Maxine for several days, Maxine tells Gogol, "'I miss you, Nikhil'" (182).  She cannot even let Gogol mourn the death of  his father for a few days - she craves attention and never truly understands Gogol, and thus I will place her towards the bottom of my list (she does have money after all, so I will not remove her entirely from consideration).  Lastly comes Moushumi.  Gogol and Moushumi initially connect on seemingly every level, and she even has the approval of Gogol's parents.  The two bond over their connected childhoods, their rebellions against their culture, and their Indian families and heritage.  By all appearances, Moushumi fits the mold of a perfect wife.  Though I suppose she does cheat on Gogol with Dimitri, who "recently turned thirty-nine" and "some gray has come into [his] hair and chest" with his "stomach undeniably wide" (264, 263).  So perhaps I should also downgrade Moushumi a bit.  In the end, not one of these women seems at all fit to marry.  Even without any pictures to assess the level of attractiveness of each woman, I can honestly say that I would not come near any of them.  Although I do feel bad for Gogol in general in this novel, after looking at his ex-girlfriends and wife, I just wish he had found better women.  Perhaps in the sequel to The Namesake, Gogol will try eHarmony and finally find happiness.     

Moushumi - Selfish or Sick?

Today in class, we discussed the reader's perception of Moushumi at great length.  It seemed that, in general, people felt a great deal of animosity towards her.  However, what if some sort of compulsory force prevents her from acting in a typical manner?  What if a legitimate medical condition hinders her ability to maintain a stable relationship?  As many people know, I aspire to one day work as a doctor (this desire also inspired the title of my blog).  When I read, I often examine characters' problems from a medical standpoint.  In most books, at some point in time a character will do something that provokes the hatred of the class.  What if this action or attitude stems directly from a medical condition - something they could not voluntarily control?  Take, for instance, this case of Moushumi - the narrator comments that she wants "a clean start in a place where no one knows her" yet often she "is reminded... of why she still loves [Gogol]" (254, 248).  Lahiri contrasts Moushumi's thoughts to indirectly characterize her as both uncommitted and faithful.  Though these conflicting characterizations could serve only to enrage the reader, they may indicate the presence of a medical condition  - dissociative identities disorder, or multiple personalities.  This could explain, and perhaps even justify, some of Moushumi's erratic behavior.  Experts believe that causes of the disorder vary - they have, however, linked overwhelming stress as a child, childhood trauma, and insufficient childhood nurturing to the condition.  Although Moushumi appears to have a childhood devoid of trauma or abuse, she may think differently - she may contend that her parents neglected and abused her through the importance they placed upon their culture, a culture which Moushumi despised.  Multiple personalities could also explain many of Moushumi's behaviors as well - symptoms include depression, sudden anger without a justified cause, and a lack of intimacy in relationships.  Moushumi flashes quickly between unexplained anger and depression, particularly during her anniversary dinner with Gogol.  At first, she finds several minor inconveniences in the restaurant incredibly frustrating, and then on the way home she cries.  As for the exact nature of Moushumi's distinct personalities, she seems to possess several, but the most prominent manifest themselves in her relationships.  One alter ego remains committed to Gogol, while the other has tired of him and seeks entertainment elsewhere.  Technology and medicine, however, cannot answer the true question: if Moushumi does suffer from this condition, does it free her of responsibility for her transgressions?