给父母的一封信

Its been five years since the wedding you wouldnt attend. I cant say I didnt see it coming， but you cant say you didnt see it coming either. You made it clear， with the strict Jewish upbringing and rules about marrying in the faith. I made it clear， with the ditching of services and my burgeoning interest in India—its books， music and people. I realised that I needed to spend my life with someone who would appreciate， even encourage， my love of South Asian language， history and culture.

I guess theres no point trying to decide if it was truly inevitable because it happened， and thats that. I married a Sikh man and you cut me off for ever.

Mom， I remember you saying， back when I was at high school and this conversation was hypothetical， that I had to marry a Jew because you wanted to be able to connect to your grandkids. But you connected with me， didnt you？ And I stopped being Jewish so early that I had to fake my bat mitzvah.

If you think a Sikh upbringing is going to make your grandson out of reach to you， you have too little faith in humanity. You have more in common than youd think： hes a shy， bookish type—like me and you and your mom； he likes to race the other boys at break， an activity you told me youd done yourself， the year I started running. Hes even taken to the same football team you taught me to cheer for， despite his fathers best efforts.

It was hard going through my first pregnancy without you or my aunt or my sister. In a way， it helped me to become close to my mother-in-law， who has been so much more gracious and accepting of this pale， new addition to her family than I ever could have hoped. She cant tell me what the secret ingredient was in grandmas pumpkin pie， but she taught me how to prepare baby milk and medicate a cough， and lull my fevered son to sleep. The incredible love I feel for my son brought me closer to my husband and family with every little act they performed to make my life easier or his life better.

So many times I wanted to call you up， if not for advice then just to say， “Look what he did today！” Or， “This reminded me of you，” or “I miss you.”

I didnt， because Im stubborn and cowardly， and bad at forgiveness. But now I have a little boy growing up too fast and another one， a little girl， on the way. And Im starting to realise there is a point where it really is too late to come into someones life and still build a healthy， normal relationship. Sooner or later， my son will start asking where his other grandparents are and I will have to lie—lie to shield him from prejudice and judgment； lie to shield him from the pain that invariably creeps into my voice whenever I broach the subject； lie to shield him from the very notion that religion， this structure that has taught him to love and respect others， is enough to tear families apart.

It has been five years since the wedding you wouldnt attend （a fact that had its own silver lining because then we could hold it in India with all of my husbands family） and Im doing OK. Im sure I will continue to be OK—even good—in this new life of mine， without you. But Id like you back in it， if you wanted to be. For your grandchildrens sake， mostly， but also for my own.

Its been five years and I hope thats enough time for you to shake off your anger and disappointment， and start to miss me too.

Its been five years. Expect a call.

五年前，你们不愿参加我的婚礼。我不能说对此完全没有预料到，你们也不能说感到意外。你们让我清楚知道，根据犹太教严格的教条和规定，犹太教信徒是不允许跨信仰联姻的。而我也清楚表明，我已不再信奉犹太教，而且对印度书籍、音乐和人民的兴趣与日俱增。我意识到那个与我共度余生的人要会欣赏甚至支持我对南亚语言、历史和文化的热爱。

这是否不可挽回？也没必要去追究了。反正事实已然如此。我和一个锡克教徒结婚后，你们便从此与我断绝来往。

妈妈，我记得在我读高中时你对我说过，我一定要和犹太人结婚，因为你希望可以和自己的外孙关系亲密。那次对话只是假设性的。但我们关系很好，不是吗？我很早就放弃了犹太教信仰，办犹太成人礼的时候，我已经是伪信徒了。

如果你认为锡克教的成长氛围会令你的外孙无法与你沟通，那你对人性的信心实在是太少了。你不知道你们有多少相似之处：他比较害羞，好读书——就像我、你和外婆；他喜欢在课间追逐其他小孩。我开始跑步那年，你跟我说过你也是这样的。尽管他爸爸极力反对，他還是喜欢上了你教我为之欢呼的那支足球队。

我怀第一胎时，没得到你、阿姨、姐姐的帮助让我十分艰难。然而，这在某种程度上让我和婆婆的关系更紧密了，她如此仁慈宽厚地接受了这个皮肤苍白的新家庭成员，这是我不曾意料到的。她不知道外婆的南瓜饼的秘密材料，但她教会我怎样准备婴儿牛奶，儿子咳嗽时该吃什么药，发烧时如何让他安然入睡。我对儿子的深爱让我与丈夫和家人的关系更紧密，他们的每一点帮助都让我的生活更轻松些，让我儿子生活得更好些。

我不知有多少次想过给你们打电话，有时候想问问你们的意见，有时候只是想说：“看他今天都做了什么！”或者说：“这让我想起你们了，”或“我想你们。”

我没有给你们打电话，因为我固执、懦弱，不懂如何原谅。但现在，我的小男孩正飞快地成长着，而我又怀孕了，这次是个小女孩。此刻，我开始意识到建立健康、正常的关系对一个人的一生是如此重要，即使已经为时已晚。不用多久，我儿子就会问他的外祖父母在哪儿，而我只能说谎——为了让他远离偏见和别人的评头论足；为了让他远离痛苦，我每次说起这件事都感到无比痛苦；为了不让他知道教他爱和尊重他人的宗教信仰也能令一个家庭破裂。

五年前，你们不愿参加我的婚礼（我们在印度顺利举行了婚礼，出席的都是我丈夫的亲人，这对我来说也是一丝慰藉。），但我还是过得很好。我肯定我以后也会很好——甚至是更好——在没有你们参与的、我的新生活。但我希望你们参与其中，如果你们愿意。这都是为了你们的外孙，同时也是为我自己。

已经过去五年了，我希望这段时间足够让你们消除愤怒和失望，也让你们开始挂念我。

五年了，等你们的电话。