Woman In Irish Linen Shirt

I was choked.

In the blink of an eye, I realized that she was deliberately mocking me with typical costumes of other East Asian cultures just now.

Westerners look at the East and only Japan; we look at the East and only our country.

But on this issue, I always feel that we are half a catastrophe with Indians, and maybe we are not as good as them. Among other things, this slightly unusual national pride of Indian descent will indeed impress everyone of other ethnicities-I am frozen there.

I have a deep prejudice against her.

Before today, I always thought I had restrained myself.

"I'm sorry." I immediately apologized, "Now I know what my problem is. Sometimes when it comes to a topic, I never even thought about asking about your specific situation. I took a certain... impression to fill the gap of imagination. , And then go on talking to myself. It’s true," I took a deep breath, "It’s really disrespectful to people. I’m sorry."

Miss Pan De did not look at me again, and nodded gently: "At least you are willing to say today that you have no understanding of my cultural background."

I looked over carefully: "Can you forgive me?"

She didn't respond to me immediately, after thinking for a moment, she said, "It remains to be seen."

"Any hint?" I hesitated and pulled her hand. "I really want to make up."

She sighed: "The first thing: don't tag me."

"Okay." My head is like smashing garlic.

"If you feel unclear about anything, or heard rumors from somewhere—about me, about Indians, or coming from a cross-cultural family like me and growing up in a third cultural background The "mixed people" among them-you can come and ask me." She stared at me for a while, her eyes made me feel a little sad for no reason, and then slowly said, "Don't use your imagination to complement me. That's not me. Okay. ?"

"Okay." I raised my right hand.

She might not have expected me to do this, and she laughed out of nowhere. That little unsearchable sadness was all diluted, and it was unpredictable. Miss Pan De smiled and nodded: "Please speak."

"'Mixed people' sounded a bit strange." I looked at her. "Do you know that there is actually a word called'global citizen'?"

"I know." She lowered her eyes. "I guess you define yourself that way?"

"Uh," I was a little reluctant, "Yes? But to be honest, I'm still not very happy to be placed in this category. I am a citizen of the world just forced to do so."

She looked at me for a while and said, "I consider myself an Indian. I am proud of my Indian identity."

Her tone is very flat, and her tone is not strong, but it just makes people feel beyond doubt.

I was about to say something, Miss Pan De said again: "I know that I am not'typical' or'stereotype' enough. In the eyes of some people, I may not be'pure' enough. I understand my original culture. Limited, I don’t speak Hindi..."

She sighed softly, faded like diluted smoke, and slowly said: "And I might not go back to live in India, or even treat it as a vacation place—I don’t love it there, at least not the current one. . Despite this, I still feel like I am Indian."

I held up three fingers to make an affidavit: "I agree that you are an Indian 200%."

Faced with my gag, she just glanced helplessly, as if her anger had disappeared, and her expression became gentle again: "Going back to the topic just now. Sometimes I say French words because the term was originally French, not because I thought. I have to show what kind of good education I have, or show off my identity as an intellectual. I am mixed with English and French because my English is not good enough—"

Miss Pan De originally wanted to continue speaking, looked at me, and paused: "What are you thinking?"

She is really sharp.

I swallowed, and said, "Dr. Pan De, do you remember the research direction of your Ph.D.?"

"That doesn't mean that my English is very good."

The criteria for judging people must be different from person to person. I nodded silently and motioned for her to continue.

"As you know, I lived in the United States for fourteen years, and my teachers and classmates in elementary school also spoke English." She was silent for a while, "I know I am very Westernized." She was silent for a long time. For a while, "I might just... anger you. In fact, you didn't say too much just now."

"No, no, you pointed out a very important issue. I'm glad I realized it so early." I held Miss Pan De and looked at her, "Do you want to talk? What happened?"

She stared at me for a few seconds and shook her head: "It's just a family chore. Maybe next time? I'm afraid of being late."

"Hey," I looked at her and made sure she was looking back at me, before saying, "I'm always willing to hear you talk about it, okay? I'll always be there when you want to say it."

She was startled, the sadness returned, and smiled and said, "Okay."

We take the subway to the dance classroom. Miss Pan De praised my goose-yellow linen suit. She also knows a little about the craftsmanship of suit making. At a glance, she can tell that this is a men's clothing practice.

The clothes are made by tailors I know well. The bust is enlarged and the height of the sleeves maintains the general standard. Therefore, the position of the armholes is relatively fit, and the elegance of fit will not be lost due to the blind pursuit of elegance. The reflection of me in the car window glass is so cool, just like I imagined before, which contrasts her very well.

The stickers on the subway have all changed to red and white themes, and some people who get on and off the train occasionally hold small flags. Two seats were vacated on the opposite side, but Miss Pande still stood side by side with me.

I suddenly said: "My mother and I took the purple line subway one day. I occasionally looked at her on the glass, but as soon as she noticed my gaze, she would lower her head to play with her phone. As soon as my eyes moved away, She just looked at me. She was about 1.6 meters tall..." I gestured at the position of my ears, "When I arrived at the station, I couldn't hold the ring with one hand, and it shook badly."

She nodded and said slowly: "It sounds like you rarely get together?"

I calculated it: "I haven’t seen her for almost ten years. I was in Hamburg in my junior year and she video chatted with me on Christmas Day—and chatted with a classmate of mine—that she might come to see me later. Me. Then she...disappeared."

To this day I don't know why she lied that lie. Is it to create some kind of illusion. If someone comes to me for questioning, do I make perfect perjury for her?

Or did she just change her mind temporarily?

Miss Pan De looked over with concern, did not ask much, just said: "Are you okay?"

I shook my head: "My mother is really the best negotiator I have ever seen. You may have a hard time imagining how and how my dad can be in a relationship. I don't know how to say it, self-enclosed? Irresponsible ? In short, he almost refuses to communicate. But every time he gets angry, my mother can accurately find the cause, analyze the problem, and actively express her thoughts—and she is really good at her job."

She listened carefully and said, "You look forward to her."

"Yes." I was out of sight for a while, "Sonia."

"Um?"

The four-language "please be careful of gaps" prompt sounded in the carriage, and we were almost at the harbor.

"I still like you a little bit."

The noisy announcement overwhelmed me.

She laughed: "What do you mean by ‘a little more’?"

"Just one more point." I looked aside. At this moment, the Malay language "please be careful of the gap" has been broadcast, and it is the turn of the rich tonal Hindi: the last word is "Karma is not cold and ineffective". I don't know what it means, but it always feels like a spell. Sometimes imitate.

I changed the subject and said, "Do you know what'Karma is not cold and bad' means?"

Miss Pan De smiled and shook her head: "What do you mean?"

"It's a bit like a kind of spell in Chinese, meaning'it's not cold enough here, and wishing won't work'." I pondered for a moment, and it felt really interesting, "Hindi is really interesting."

"That's why you remember how you say ‘999’?" She looked at me, "’Wang Ba Dong, Wang Ba Dong, Wang Ba Dong,’ that’s what you said."

I dared not explain this empty ear to her, and sloppyly said, "Your memory is really good. I should imitate it to you the day you listened to the concert? It's embarrassing to say, I still haven't grasped the essence of that pronunciation. I'm still using the Chinese pronunciation to imitate it—do you think it's a matter of intonation?"

Miss Pan De did not speak immediately, but just smiled and went out of the subway with me.

Freed from the crowd, she stood in the corner, looking at me and said: "Interesting fact: Whether it is'Wang Badong' or the'mantra' you just recited, it is not Hindi. You know the official language of Singapore or even Is there no Hindi?"

I froze for a moment: "Uh-uh -"

"That's Tamil." She looked at me, although she was smiling, but she didn't mean to mock me. "I know, the two languages ​​may look more alike to you — they may sound more alike. , Because you have no way to distinguish their grammatical structure. But apart from the fact that Tamil speakers may also speak Hindi, they are really completely different things."

I just read her helplessness invisibly.

"This is really interesting. You can tell clearly the linguistic differences between Mandarin and Cantonese, and you also consider doing research on language differences in the past, but you don't even know that Hindi belongs to the Indo-European language family, and Tamil belongs to Daro. The difference between the two languages ​​is greater than that between Chinese and Japanese." She looked at me, "In fact, Tamil is already one of the most important languages ​​in the Dravidian language family. I think It’s really hard for people to be interested in other people’s culture, don’t they?"

My face must be flushed: "Thank you for telling me, Sonia, otherwise I may be a joke in others' mouths for at least ten years before I finally find out—maybe for a lifetime. You are right, I sometimes too I'm ignorant."

She was noncommittal and raised her eyebrows: "Your arrogance can be forgiven."

I hung my shoulders and looked at her: "Are you willing to be my window?"

Miss Pan De walked ahead and turned around and said, "This is a good start."