Your Mother's Maiden Name?

My name is my identity, my history. My dad picked my first name, my cultural tradition determined my middle name, and my family caste dictated my surname. I did not take my husband's name when we were married. Many men insist that their wives change their name, but I think it's my choice and my husband agrees. My son shares his middle name with me and his last name with his father and even without a shared last name, we are a united family.

In the 1850s, Lucy Stone from Massachusetts (my home state) was the first recorded American woman to keep her name. In 1921, the Lucy Stone League of New York (where I live now) promoted the preservation of women's names. This group was openly chided and most women, regardless of education or career levels, continued to change their names upon marriage. During the 1970s, more women decided against changing their names. Hillary Rodham did not change her name; however, this offended many Arkansas voters who thought she did not support her husband. When her husband re-ran for Governor in 1982, she referred to herself Mrs. Bill Clinton. During his presidential run, she was Hillary Rodham Clinton, which again rubbed people the wrong way. In her 2008 presidential race, she was simply Hillary.

In 2009, a minority of married couples do not share the same last name. Is there a reason why a woman should change her name but a man should not? Several of my female friends have kept their names and this practice is no longer considered a political issue, but rather a personal preference. I married just before my 34th birthday. My name is on two academic degrees and four filled passports. My name is recognized by my colleagues and peers in my industry. My name makes it easier for old friends to find me on Facebook or Google searches.

A potential upside of changing your name is that you will share a name with your children, but I pondered if that mattered when I found out I was pregnant. I feel no less bonded to my son when I give his name at the Pediatrician's office. It would be convenient because I wouldn't have to explain that we are married and he is my son even though we have different last names. Luckily, I do not feel the need to explain this to anyone.

There are people who will refer to me as Mrs. Husband'sLastName. Some traditionalists (and members of my husband's family :) just won't oblige. It doesn't bother me because sometimes I like it and maybe someday, I will change my name. Again, it's my choice.

How will my son choose to answer when banks ask for his mother's maiden name as his password? Do I have a maiden name if I never changed my name? What is my married name? Am I a Mrs.? There are no rules to guide us. He could explain that my maiden and married names are one in the same. He could state that I don't have a maiden name when he is feeling combative. Or he could just say "Patel" and be done with it. I hope he chooses well.

Postcard: South Africa

Around Thanksgiving 2005, my b-school friend R. and I traveled to South Africa for 12 days. We packed in as much as we could with a 4-day safari, a short stay in Pretoria with extended family from my dad's side, and a few days in beautiful Cape Town to conclude the whirlwind trip. Visiting South Africa was a chance to see incredible natural wildlife and seascapes and to witness the racial politics that divide the region.

Safari
We flew into Jo'burg and left for Kruger National Park the next morning. It was so wonderful to have family to arrange a personal jeep tour for us with pickup from their home in Pretoria.

This is how we met Hendrick, our personal tour guide and South African man down to the core. He picked up two single ladies and was determined to engage us in conversation. R. and I were feeling anti-social and possibly rude, which is too bad in retrospect. However, he soldiered on and covered AIDS, corrupt South African politics, race relations between whites-blacks-Indians, the state of Townships, safari animals, food. He was knowledgeable about a diversity of topics. He, also, was not very fond of black-Africans or Indians (R. and I are both Indian, but he didn't seem to mind us). He told us 80% of black-Africans have AIDS. He enlightened us on the tense race relations among the black-Africans and mixed race Africans. He told us about the jail system. He was also flirting and trying very hard to pique our interest. At the very end of the four days after getting no reaction from us, he mentioned something about getting a gift for his girlfriend's birthday. What! I love meeting such characters on my travels.

Hendrick was an astounding tour guide. He knew every animal, every bird, and every bit of history of the land and the area along the 4-5 hour drive from Pretoria to Kruger. He made every effort to show us as many animals as possible during our 2.5 days of safari. The safari was amazing and one of the best travel experiences I have ever had. We saw elephants, rhinos, buffalo, lions, giraffes, baboons, monkeys, antelope, impala, wildebeest, zebra, hippos, crocodiles, ostrich, cheetah, and hyena, as well as, numerous birds.

A Monkey Stole My Lunch
Hendrick warned us. Of course, R. and I were barely listening as he told us two or three times to stay away from the monkeys at the picnic area where we would stop for lunch. Once there, R. and I gathered our lunches and headed for the picnic tables. We did observe that everyone else was sitting at the inner tables rather than the ones near the edge of the picnic area, but this did not register to us as we thought it'd be nice to sit near the trees full of monkeys. There we sat and engaged in conversation about the safari.

Then, it happened. A monkey stole my ham sandwich...right out of my hand. This monkey ran under my chair and reached up in between my legs for the sandwich. I threw the sandwich onto the table in complete shock and the monkey jumped on the table, grabbed a slice of bread, and ate it right in front of me. Chewing and staring and mocking. Evil, evil monkey. After he ran off, R. and I burst out laughing at our total obliviousness. We continued eating and making fun of ourselves when it happened again. This time a monkey jumped on the table and pilfered R.'s banana bread. Banana bread! I guess we didn't learn. We admitted defeat and threw out the remainder of our lunch. I tossed my bag of Lays Thai Sweet Chile potato chips on top of the trash can so the monkeys could take it. The photo is of a mommy monkey eating the chips.

Townships and Racial Harmony
In the post-apartheid era, South Africa is still desegregated with distinct neighborhoods separating whites, Indians, and blacks. While in Pretoria, R. and I were interested in visiting a township because we had heard accounts of living in Soweto, where Oprah was building a school for girls. My cousin drove us to a township nearby to where his family lived in Pretoria to give us a feel as to what Soweto and all townships were like.

Hendrick's quoted AIDS infection rate may have been higher than what the country publishes, but no doubt HIV/AIDS is a serious problem in this country as are hunger and poverty. The shacks were made of cement or aluminum siding and were dreadfully small and cramped. As we drove in our luxury SUV, most of the people walked in the scorching heat and many mothers carried their children in shawls tied around their backs. My relatives employed wonderful servants from this township who had to climb a large hill every morning to cross into the Indian section of town. Their maid cooked Indian food better than I could. I was awed by the differences from one way one life to another. Experiencing such aspects of life is the reason I travel.

Capetown and Cape of Good HopeThe final part of our trip was Cape Town - one of most beautiful places I have ever visited. We relished what Cape Town had to offer, including the fear of heights inducing views from Table Mountain, the jail cell that was the former home of Nelson Mandela at Robben Island, and the world renowned wineries of the Winelands.

We took a driving tour along the scenic coasts to visit the southernmost points of the country (again arranged by a family member). We drove down the Atlantic coast via Chapman's Peak on our way to Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. We hiked along the at times treacherous trails at Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve where we witnessed majestic views of the Atlantic and Indian oceans. On our return to the city, we visited the Penguin colony at Boulders Beach. It was a memorable adventure.

Postcard: Spain and Italy

From the archives... This will not be a good example of my writing skills, but I am happy to have a record of my travels through Spain and Italy in the summer of 2001. I forgot so much of what had happened. Here are the emails that I sent to friends and family along the way. And I am resisting the strong urge to edit this!

Originally sent Thursday, June 14, 2001 5:55 PM

Subject: Hola desde Granada

I´m writing from a little Internet cafe in the southern town of Granada, Spain. It´s not very hard to do since there are Internet hookups everywhere even in the hostales. For those of you who don´t know where I am, you clearly aren´t calling me enough. Pick up the phone! I´m travelling in Spain and Italy for 4 weeks with my college roommate, P. Yes, I am still employed but on a very extended vacation. Thanks to my wonderful boss! Okay, I´m glad the sucking up is through.

This is Day 6. We arrived in Madrid from where we rented a car so we could road trip through Spain. I highly recommend driving through a foreign country because it is amazing the little things that come up. Be prepared to be very frustrated with the lack of street signs, though. I am amazed at what a good sense of direction I have and I can read a map. I never knew. Basically, we´ve seen all the big sites in the cities we´ve visited including Madrid, Cordoba, Sevilla, Toledo, Granada, Nerja. I won´t bore everyone with the details as most of you have been to Spain. If you haven´t yet, maybe I´ll fill you in later. Or just go!

Instead, I´ll just tell you some things which I found interesting or entertaining that others may not deem worth noting due to lack of the A. perspective.

1. Matadors are hot. Against my brother´s advice, I went to see a bullfight in Madrid. It was horrible and disgusting as 6 bulls were killed that day while spectators cheered on. But, despite the freezing temperatures and the carnage, we stayed til the end because we wanted to watch all the cute matadors. It´s surprising how immune you become to the killing. Toward the end, we were just waiting for the bulls to die so that it would all end.

2. You know movies where the car starts rolling backward as someone gives chase. Oh yeah, that happened to me. Being a novice to stick shifts, I parked the car and forgot to set the parking break. I had to jump in and slam down the brake. It was quite funny.

3. In the States, everyone thinks I´m of Spanish speaking origin. I must look Latina. That has continued here. Sadly, I know very little Spanish. I think people think I´m being snobby. However, they can easily tell I´m Americana. There´s no hiding that.

4. Tour groups are a great thing because you can follow them whenever you´re lost. We followed the people carrying maps through the windy confusing streets of Cordoba and Sevilla. Also, it´s great if you can overhear the guide´s explanation of what you´re seeing.

5. If I see 1 more Cathedral... Spain is very Catholic so we´ve seen Cathedrals almost everywhere. I liked the mezquita in Cordoba the most because of the Muslim influence. The Toledo and Sevilla cathedrals very nice but just too ornate for me. It's very dizzying to look at them. I lose my balance.

Ahhh, I´m almost out of time. It´s hard to write on this keyboard. We´re off to the Costa del Blanca of Spain tomorrow.

Hasta, A.

Originally sent Tuesday, June 19, 2001 10:40 AM

Subject: Hola desde Barcelona

When we last left our heroines...

P. and I left the heat and flamenco dancers of Southern Spain for the paella and beaches of the East coast. After blitzkrieging through the sites of Madrid through Granada, we've been relaxing for the 2nd half of our Spain trip.

I drove for most of the very blah trip from Granada to Costa Blanca. We stopped at the San Juan Beach in Alicante, and I'm about 3 shades darker than I was. Then, we went out on the town in Valencia. This was the biggest night life we have experienced. We even heard Bon Jovi blaring from some guy's car- "It's my life...now or never." (That's for you, A.C.)! It's like a night out in San Fran except we have to point to things on the menu. We also watched some guy unsuccessfully try to take some woman's purse...yeah,that happens in San Fran, too.

Finally, we arrived in Barcelona on Saturday only to be turned away due to lack of a motel room. P. got pulled over for making a somewhat erratic car move. She had to take a breathalyzer test, which was quite amusing. (shhh....don't tell her I told you). So, we re-routed to the Costa Brava to spend more time on the beach although it was not as nice as the Costa Blanca. Finally, we arrived in Barcelona, a beautiful Spanish city full of many, many Americans. La Sagrada Familia was probably my favorite Spain site b/c I'm a big fan of Gaudi. A few of you may remember Neumann's architecture class at Brown...well, it was fun to see something I had studied. Walking down the narrow, spirally staircase was wild. Don't look down. We also stopped by Gaudi's Parc Guell. We saw a beautiful view of the Mediterranean and the city from the top. And then, we got very lost in the labyrinth of side paths and gardens. Gaudi was pretty damn creative or high. We saw the sites pretty early and have been spending the rest of the time doing nothing.

We have been hanging out on Les Rambles watching the people walk by and playing "Are they Americana or Euro?" Americans are so easy to spot b/c they are less snobby looking and a lot less stylish. Also, the backpacks and sneakers are a big give away. We were in our hotel room last night waiting to go out(the hours from 10pm - 1am pass very slowly b/c you're just waiting and waiting) when we heard these guys having a deep racial discussion (not really). It was such an obnoxious conversation but the best line was "you went to a liberal college, you don't have any perspective. you're too sensitive."

The Barcelona Metro is also amusing b/c of the elevator music. We were able to discern John Lennon, Bryan Adams, Moon River, lots of 80s music. Also,The Naked Truth, the show with Tea Leoni is always on the TV. At first, we were making fun of it, but now we find ourselves turning on the TV looking for it. "Is it on? Where's Tea?" Either that or the Spanish Price is Right, Precio Juste.

It's siesta time right now. I haven't been able to adjust to this tradition although it is a great idea. The Internet cafe is packed with us Americans. Spain has been wonderful. I loved driving through the country and drinking Sangria into the night. My favorite spots were probably Sevilla, Granada, Nerja, Costa Blanca, and Barcelona. It is weird that when our Spain trip is over, we still half of our vacation left. I'll email from Italy. There are many Spain postcards heading to the States.
To show my web nerdiness, this is an aside for my coworkers: (1) Yahoo Mail is 10x faster internationally than Hotmail. The Yahoo folks had said this was true b/c they are a framed site and Hotmail operates with redirects. I guess they weren't just full of themselves as usual. (2) When I drop down the address bar, I see yahoo.fr, yahoo.br, yahoo.com, etc as the predominant sites. I guess everyone does Yahoo. (3) I've seen very few billboards on the autovias except in the big cities. The biggest I saw was wanadoo.es, which I know is a big European search engine. Also, I saw dot.com ads on buses. (4) ads.x10.com pop-ups everywhere. You can't get away from it. Interesting stuff. 

Originally sent Monday, July 02, 2001 8:28 AM
Subject: da Roma
Ciao!
Day 24 begins...I've developed quite the teva tan at this point. My toes must be the darkest part of my body.
I am now in the great shopping mall known as Italy. The Italy Trail: Rome-Venice-Milan-Genova-Cinque Terre-Florence-Siena/Pisa-Pompei-Naples-Rome. So far, everywhere in Italy has been about 10x more crowded than Spain. We were spolied by the lack of waiting in Spain, but Italy has been one long queue. People are a little more rude but a lot more stylish. Shopping!
Spain was a lot more exciting to me b/c I hadn't been there before. I've been to Italy before but there were still a few more highlights on the second half of the trip. My favorite part of this vacation was Venice b/c it's a beautiful city, and my college friend D. and his wife C. were able to meet us there. They drove a long way from Germany through my favorite mountain range - the Alps- to come visit us for the weekend. (Thanks, D&C)! Sightseeing was fun but it was especially great to talk to familiar, friendly, English speaking people. We took the requisite gondola ride. We contemplated buying a $40,000 chandelier. No, not really.
The second best part of Italy was hiking through Cinque Terre. Cinque Terre are the five towns along the Italian Riviera coast, and there is an at times grueling 11km trail through the mountains and along the coast there. We motored through it in 4 hrs in the unbearable sun. (You missed out, J.P.). It definitely isn't the 'path not taken' as we met tons of backpackers there, but still worth it for the incredible views. The water was an amazing crystal blue. No green at all. (B.W., you know what that means). I threw out all the clothes I had been wearing. Did I mention how HOT it was?
Did you know that 70% of Italian men call their mothers EVERY day? It's true. Everyone is always on the phone with their moms here.
There were some other cool highlights. I liked the art in Florence. I saw Botticelli's Birth of Venus on which I had done a presentation in 10th grade History class (in Mrs. Whiting's class, N.). I was excited about that b/c it's one of the three paintings I actually recognize.
Riding the train was an adventure. Yesterday, we met some overly friendly train hoppers. One of the guys showed his appreciation for P. and Asian women by making that universal slanty eyes motion. I tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. They were very amusing and good tour guides. We declined on the offer to have Italian boyfriends. Sadly, they were kicked off before they could entertain us some more.
Crossing the street is sort of like the Seinfeld Frogger episode. Red lights seem to be strictly discretionary. We've resorted to using old women as our shields as they are much more adept at crossing the street than we are.
Well, the trip is nearing the end. I'm even looking forward to going back to work. I miss the metrix. I'll see y'all in NYC.
Ciao love, A. 

Admirable Woman: A Tribute to My Mother

I was daunted when faced with this MBA application essay.

Identify someone you regard as a hero, a leader or role model whom you admire. Describe how this person has influenced your development.

Ten years ago, the essay portion of the SATs asked almost exactly this question. My mind went blank. I scribbled furiously about…Rosa Parks. I did not even know enough about Rosa Parks to fill the page but I babbled on and passed the writing portion with high marks. Don’t get me wrong, Rosa Parks is an iconic symbol of the Civil Rights movement. She is to be admired. However, my family did not move to the U.S. until the 1970’s and this choice did not strike me as especially personal. I vowed to redeem myself.

My initial instinct was to think of a woman. Not surprising as I consider myself a strong woman and I admire other such women. I rise up to challenges without relying on the guidance of others. Or so I thought until I tackled this question.

I chose to write about my mother. Not an easy task considering us first generation Indian-Americans were not exactly raised in gushing families that expressed emotions or acknowledged feelings. Would Harvard recognize the depths I needed to explore for this essay? Would I do my mother justice? Would I cry? Maybe. Hopefully. Yes.

"You’re too independent," exclaimed the Indian Uncles and Aunties. Only, they meant it in the pejorative sense of the word. It was okay when I graduated valedictorian of my high school and when I went away to an ivy league school. It was not okay when I wanted to do things my way. Often, my way would clash with the Indian way.

In my latest act of "rebellion," I had moved across the country to California to work and experience life. Most of my cousins and family friends had moved back into their parents’ homes after college. Some ventured out to a safe radius. That was the correct way, especially for an Indian girl.

Here I was paving my own path again. Well, as I learned in college, I’m not as unique an Indian-American female as I thought. When I really stopped to think about it, my mom cleared far more hurdles than I have ever faced.

My mom has two older sisters who married young - the eldest at 14 and the second at 16. Those were the 60s in India. Few women went to college, and if they did, they were more likely to be Brahmin or well-to-do. Certainly not a poor village girl. What was the point when women should get married and stay at home to raise their children and care for their husbands. Sure, she took home economics with the other girls in school and helped her parents at home. Why not learn how to sew, cook, and balance a budget?

My mom went to college and in the sprawling metropolis of Bombay, no less. I had some trepidation of moving to San Francisco on my own and that is nowhere near the size of Bombay. She did not think of it as fearless nor did she consider the social ramifications of seeming too educated among her soon to be Indian peers in America. She was simply smart.

My mom married my father after earning her B.A. in Economics. (that’s the same degree I obtained). None of my aunts had college degrees and many never finished high school. That’s not to say they were not intelligent. But, I recognized that my mom achieved something special. Unfortunately, it was not necessarily revered in an Indian woman of no social status. Thus, my mom never flaunted her education and downplayed her intelligence. That sounds familiar to me. Sometimes, we are both humble to a fault.

My dad returned to the U.S. to start his job, but my mom was now pregnant and stayed behind to wait for her visa call. The call came as she was in the hospital giving birth to my brother and she would have to wait almost a year for the next call. During this time, my mom stayed with her parents at first before moving in with my dad’s parents. That was not easy. As much as I loved my paternal grandparents, there was a certain way to treat a daughter-in-law back then. To Americans, it would have appeared that my mom was someone subservient. Again, she persevered. She was above that, yet remained the dutiful daughter-in-law.

My mom, at a mature 24, traveled to the U.S. on her own with a one year old to rejoin my father. A year later, I was born. There was no thought of paternity leave or a husband helping his wife back then. My dad returned to work immediately and my mom was left to run after a toddler, care for a newborn, cook dinner, and maintain the home. No nanny or family to help. Just an indomitable nature.

That was not the way things would remain. My parents began a joint entrepreneurship while I was still in diapers. My dad, to his forward thinking credit, recognized that my mom’s intelligence should not be wasted. My mom now worked full-time while managing the home. Watching my mom succeed in business ventures is what has developed my own business sense and entrepreneurial spirit. I, too, can do it all.

My life has been easy now that I think about it. I’m single at 27, living in San Francisco, well employed and have the goal of pursuing my MBA. I’m simply treading in my mom’s worn path. She’s the reason I’m "independent" and "defiant" and "confident." How could her daughter be anything less.

Phew, I did it. And within the imposed word limit. Harvard does not understand how verbose I can be. I inherited that from my mom, too.

The beginning

I work in the Internet. Well, these days we call it "digital media," with the advent of e-commerce, video, mobile web, online banking, social networking, etc. But, I still like to say I work in the Internet because I remember how it was ten years ago when I first entered the door into this world.

I lived in San Francisco then, circa 1998. I was consulting at PwC and dying to get a piece of the Internet pie. However, I had no programming or computer or web-related skills to speak of, so it seemed an impossibility. People were becoming millionaires left and right, inlcuding some of my friends. That wasn't my end goal, though (see the aforementioned lack of skills). I wanted to be a part of the excitement.

I loved and still love to hear about the upcoming advances in this field. For example, I'm looking forward to the total integration of web, TV, and mobile. Even more than all of this, I love being an early adopter of all the new stuff. I first got into surfing my junior year of college. Since then, I've done everything to feed the addiction - Amazon, Priceline, ebay, Google, Blue Mountain Arts, Zappos, Friendster, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, the list goes on. And I'd like to point out that I never used AOL.

The one thing I'd intentionally avoided -- blogging. I am a very private person. Numerous old colleagues have sent me invitations or shown me their awesome blogs. I read everyone else's blogs religiously, but I am not a blogger (or vlogger or mobloger). Maybe it's embarassment or maybe I want to stay an enigma.

So, why start now? It's not the peer pressure certainly. I do miss the days when I would write endlessly - my travel journals, short stories to humor friends, articles for my school papers, autobiographical chapters, that book I was going to get published. That's not it either. I want my son (and any future children) to have an insight into me. That's why I called this blog "A Postscript." It's a supplement to what they'll experience with me.

fyi, I'm typing this as my son sleeps on my chest. I hope not all posts take this long!