Memories of India

By Marjorie Raskin

In 1980, Marjorie Raskin went to India with her two young children to better understand her partner Deva, by visiting his family outside New Delhi. The trip left her with a lasting love of India. While there, she had the privilege of working with Deva’s father, an Ayurvedic physician and a follower of Gandhi.

“In her new book, Memories of India, Marjorie Raskin tells the story of a love affair that begins California and continues on in India where she meets her lover’s family. This captivating memoir is a pleasure to read.”
Ira Silverman, Journalist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728341354

Marjorie Raskin

A practicing psychiatrist for over forty years, Marjorie Raskin also studied writing at The New School and Sarah Lawrence. In The Anxiety Expert, a memoir, she described confronting lifelong anxieties through psychotherapy and medication. She lives in New York City with her husband.

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© 2019 Marjorie Raskin. All rights reserved.

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  12/30/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-4134-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-4135-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019921194

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Dedication

For Luka, Niko and Ryan

Much, Much Love

I would like to thank Maureen Brady for editing advice and

encouragement. Thanks also to my good friend and former

dorm mate Anita Pomerance for careful proofreading.

Alexis Raskin gets my thanks for a great cover. And, of

course, many thanks to Fred for far too much to name.

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India: December 1980

Chapter One

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I was relieved to see that many of the other passengers also had young children, although they were Indians who looked relaxed as they stowed away their bundles and slipped off their shoes once we began our flight from San Francisco to New Delhi. When the stewardess offered my children books and toys, Nina, four chose a doll with honey colored hair much like hers, but nine-year-old Kevin only found comics he’d red before. Soon Nina bent forward to comfort her doll, but Kevin sat stiffly, his eyes too wide.

I smiled to radiate confidence despite the worries buzzing round in my head. I was trying to ignore my ex’s last angry calls. Are you fucking nuts? They’ll get malaria, dysentery, God knows what. If you want to meet Deva’s family go yourself and leave the kids with me. They shouldn’t be hurt because of your exotic taste in men. The doctors who gave us our shots weren’t so reassuring either; they seemed nervous about treating all the illnesses we might contract.

As the stewardess talked about the movies on our flight my children settled into their seats to watch her. I sat back and thought about Deva, the man I’d been living with for almost two years. If being Indian made him exotic, he was also kind, attractive and surprisingly funny at times. He was bright too: he’d gotten a Ph.D. in Neurosciences from Berkeley in record time and he could fix anything, from a lamp to a broken toaster. When he said we’d be safe in Chalagar I believed him. I wished Michael, my ex, could believe him too. They’d even talked about it. Deva said, Look, they’ll be living in my parent’s home in a small country town. I wouldn’t ask them to come if I couldn’t protect them. A few years ago I took my first American friends on a tour of India and no one got sick, not even for a day. Give my friends a call. You’ll feel better. Michael had seemed satisfied then, but as the trip drew closer his worries overwhelmed him.

My desire to go to India was not quite as simple as what I’d told Michael. Yes, I wanted to meet Deva’s family, but what I needed more urgently was a better understanding of the man I was with. I felt sure we loved each other, but when I asked Deva how he saw us in a year, he’d answer, Why with you, of course. He never talked about the future unless I asked and I often had the feeling that he was holding back something. This past summer, as I steeled myself to demand clear answers, Deva made a brief speech.

Look. I’m not stupid, I know what you want, but some of it I just can’t give you.

When I opened my mouth to speak, he held his hand up. No, hear me out. I believe in marriage and people being together for life. My parents have been married for over fifty years and I think that’s great, but we’ll have to trust each in other ways. The best way for you to understand my situation is to come to India with me. Come for December with the kids, then you’ll see everything with your own eyes.

Well, this helps, can you tell me more?

I could, but I don’t think it would satisfy you. Come to India. Then you’ll understand, I promise.

But it’s such a long trip for the kids.

It is long, but it’s not that bad. If you’re coming in December you should decide soon because the house needs plenty of work. Without flush toilets those kiddoes are going to be screaming for home. Putting his hand on mine, Deva said, Please come and meet my family. It’ll only bring us closer.

I looked at his eager face and nodded.

Will you be okay going alone with the kids because…

We both know I get nervous easily, but I can do this. It’s clearly our next step.

As we settled in for our long plane ride, Deva was in Chalagar getting the house ready for our visit. He’d left in early November and we followed in December. He’d told me several times that Indian trains didn’t operate with the precision I expected and although he’d try to be at the airport when we arrived, it was possible he’d be a day or more late so he’d made reservations for us at a comfortable hotel in New Delhi where we were to stay there until he got us. I’d carefully written out the hotel’s and his parent’s addresses and