READER DISCRETION ADVISED: THIS STORY AT TIMES DEPICTS, BUT IN WAY NO WAY SEEKS TO JUSTIFY, PREJUDICES AND STEREOTYPES THAT EXIST IN SOCIETY.

The Happy Life of Mr. Average

Omaha, Nebsraska
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Ravi could not attract foreign women no matter how hard he tried. He joked that was because he was a man of averages: average height, average weight, average academic performance and  average athletic, musical and  intellectual abilities. He was the law of averages personified. He did not excel or stand out in any specific field to have that cross-over appeal that is needed for inter-cultural relationships to form.

On the other hand, this "averageness" greatly endeared him to many of the Nepalese women who found him to be a friendly guy with a sunny disposition. The problem was there were only two Nepalese girls in his college; one was married and the other was dating a guy from Pakistan who was much taller and more handsome than Ravi. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed to think much of him unlike the other Nepalese girls he knew in his life. The married girl barely acknowledged his existence judging by the numerous times he would smile at her when he saw her in the college hallways or at Wal Mart and she would look through him totally expressionless as if were wearing a cloak of invisibility As for the other girl with the boyfriend, she would at least smile back at him, and he was glad, but she would always be clinging to her boyfriend whenever Ravi ran into her. So his interactions with her always started and ended with a single smile.

About those Nepalese women who found him endearing, well, the truth be told, they didn't exist in America. These were girls back in Nepal. In Kathmandu. In his family. His sisters and cousins. His mom most definitely.

Yes, he just could not attract women Ravi finally admitted to himself one day.

Ever the optimist, he believed he could change that. He was twenty two and hadn't really had anyone he could seriously have called his girlfriend. There was Priti in high school but that was just infatuation which faded after she was sent off to finish school in London and stopped writing to him two months later. There was nothing serious between them. They had watched two movies together, dined at a restaurant in Thamel, where one of her male cousins saw her riding on the back of Ravi's motorbike and reported the matter to her dad. That was the last time they went out together. That was not the case with his roommate Suvit, who had a girlfriend in Delhi whom he would call every night and tell her how much he loved and missed her. Or with Pradeep dai, two years his senior, whose high school sweetheart from Nepal was going to join him next semester. Hanging out with them everyday, Ravi felt it was time he had a girlfriend again. A real one this time.

He joined the YMCA and started working out and building up his body. After the second week, his muscles were sore but had barely increased in size. He thought he would swim instead because he had read that swimming was the one of two physical activities that exercises all the muscles of your body. The name of the other activity also began with the same letter but to think of that at this stage would be to put the cart before the horse.

He swam sixty to seventy laps everyday for the next two weeks and girls started noticing him. Unfortunately, not in the way he would have liked. When they saw him, they would move out of his space and not give a second look.

He decided to take up golf. He was sick of the ordinary girls he met and thought his luck might change if he pow-wowed with the rich and the famous. His golfing career ended with a scream and a thud when he swung too hard and in the wrong direction and knocked off the elderly lady practicing next to him in the driving range. A series of similar mishaps in tennis, squash and other sports brought Ravi's quest for a girlfriend to an end.

That was when he took a vow. If girls wouldn't like him for who he was, he too wasn't going to like them for who they were. He vowed, like Devratta in the Mahabharata, to seek a life free of women. Unlike Devratta, thunder did not strike and the heavens did not part when he made his vow. Although Suvit did let out a loud snore at one point that night.

***

Life changed after Ravi made his vow. As if by some stroke of cruel divine humor, the unexpected happened. Girls started leaving him their numbers. He was working as a cashier at a convenient store owned by Harsbardan Patel, recently from Uganda, when one day, a pretty blond girl bought a Mentos and scribbled something on the back of an abandoned lottery ticket and said "Call me".

Before he could ask why, she had cat-walked out of the store. Why would she ask me to call her he wondered. Did she want to offer him a job? Perhaps she owned another convenience store nearby and wanted to hire him. He had heard most white-owned stores paid higher wages than Indian-owned ones and treated their workers better. But there wasn't any convenience store around for miles. It must be out along the highway he figured. He wasn't interested in that case. Patel's store was walking distance from the college dorms and he felt he should stick to his job at least for a few months. He did not call her.

Then there was Wenrong, an international student from China, who lived in the suite across from him in the college dorm. She gave him her number. That was because she knew he didn't have a phone in his room because he couldn't afford one on his measly income from Patel's store. What a kind and understanding girl she was. He could give that number to his parents in Nepal in case they needed to reach him for any emergencies.

***

Ocean City, Maryland
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That summer he went to Ocean City. OC to some. Onion Cutting to others. He worked in a convenient store and put in more hours than he could keep count of. He also learned celibacy did not work in this place. Ravi couldn't quite figure what had happened but girls started noticing him. This time the way he wanted them to. He once went to a Nepali party where he sensed more than once that someone was looking at him. At first he thought it was a case of old habit dying hard where people from back home examined a new person from head to toe. A handy way to find out if that person at the end of the bench at the bus stand was a Nepali. As the evening progressed, he found out there was more to it than just that.

He first met Ankita that night. She was a very attractive girl. Through Ankita, he met Renee. "Ri-ney", as she corrected him once. A petite French woman with an aloof personality. All of a sudden, Ravi had many women friends. Besides Ankita and Renee, there was Niti from Kansas, Ranjita from Minnesota and Prakriti from Tennessee. He had plenty of guy friends too. With no opinions on any subject that really mattered, a pleasant personality, a non-confrontational disposition, it was hard for anyone not to like Ravi.

He and Ankita got close. So close that they had to move in together so that they could be close enough to each other whenever they wished. As a result, they were the talk of the town. The Nepali student community in Ocean City was scandalized. Upon hearing the news of their cohabitation, cell phones across America rang, plan minutes were exceeded, keyboards fired, inboxes got flooded and sales at Himtel and Tomatotel showed an abnormal spike for a week. Soon the whole world knew of their romance. Ravi acquired the reputation of a seasoned operative when it came to girls. Boys his senior either hated him or grudgingly conceded to his magical powers over girls and boys his junior would look up to him and admire him for the "player" he, the golfer who struck fear in the hearts of those practicing around him, had become.

Not everyone was thrilled with Ravi's success at romance. He got a call at work saying Ankita's dad had just boarded a Qatar Airways flight enroute to DC. It would be a matter of time before his parents got wind of it, and they too would be on the next flight out.

To diffuse the situation, Ankita moved back with her female roommates and Ravi took in two male roommates. When Ankita's dad reached Ocean City, he made some lame excuse about a seminar he needed to attend last minute in Washington DC.


***

Absence makes the heart grow forgetful
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Ankita who? It was the following summer and Ravi was back in Ocean City. Ankita was not. Renee was.

Ravi had never really been attracted to foreign women. They didn't understand your culture and since you are so much a part of your culture and your culture is so much a part of you, they didn't understand you either. They wouldn't cook for you , if anything, you had to cook for them and even do their laundry. Besides, he always had this image of Caucasian women lacking in the hygiene department. Perhaps something to do with what he saw in the hotels of Thamel, a favorite hangout for all the unshaven, unkempt and long haired tourists of the world who seemed a little stingy when it came to running the shower and applying some soap on their soiled skins. It completely escaped his mind that the acute water problems of Kathmandu might have  had something to do with it.

They were not trustworthy partners he had heard. They would probably have slept with ten boys before you and, who knows, might sleep with another ten after you.

When you have such low expectation of someone, he or she is bound to exceed it. Renee wasn't exactly a virgin, but she hadn't slept around much either. She smelled good and dressed well. She was so ordinary. She was raised on a farm in Normandy and attended university in Paris before transferring to a college in Vermont. She liked to wake up, have coffee, make breakfast, go to work, come home, catch a movie on TV, make dinner, read a book and sleep. She had other hobbies too but had to put them aside for the sake of saving money for her tuition fees.

Ravi was intrigued. How could a person from France, the land of femme fatale, be so simple and nice. Perhaps her provincial roots in Normandy might have something to do with it. He couldn't figure her out. She had the personality and presence of a movie star in many ways: stunning blue eyes, spotless golden skin and shoulder length blond hair. She spoke English with a very faint French accent that got a tad thicker when she was stressed, which was very seldom. She had a calm and composed demeanour and carried her self with charm and elegance wherever she went.

She would invite him over for breakfast on Tuesdays when they both had the day off. A liberated woman, she had no qualms about cooking him breakfast. He always did the dishes .They shared a love of cinema and reading and would spend time indulging in these interests or talking about it for endless hours. One day they went to attend a film festival in DC. That was when he first kissed her. A week later she moved in with him.

That summer passed like a breeze. Faster than any other summer he could remember. Before he knew it, it was time to go back to school. Which was a thousand miles way from her.

***

As time goes by
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Ravi is presently married to Swikriti. They first met at Swikriti's aunt's place in New York. After dinner, over Lalmohan and Tiramisu, it was time for songs and entertainment.. Ravi offered to play the guitar and Swikriti, Suku to her friends and family, chose to sing an old Nepali song. Pin-drop silence ensued as Ravi strummed the Fender guitar and Suku's melodious voice spread across the room to the tune of "Aha Ban Ma Phulyo Phulai Phula". When they were finished the audience of family members and friends burst into an enthusiastic applause. They shyly glanced at each other after the song for a quick but fateful moment and then nodded gently at the audience to acknowledge the applause.

A year later they were engaged to be married in Nepal as per traditional rites and rituals They have two daughters now. No, they weren't named Ankita and Renee, although the idea did cross Ravi's mind. He now lives happily in the suburbs of Chicago with three women whom he loves with every fiber of his being and who in turn blindly admire and love him. Well, two of them more so than the other who occasionally nags him for leaving his dirty socks right next to, but not inside, the laundry basket. He is down to a five-handicap in golf and takes his daughters for tennis lessons who, in spite of his repeated denials, are convinced he is the greatest tennis player to have lived on earth. Daddy's girls, they both need to be read to and tucked into bed by him. Mommy only knows fairy tales. Daddy's stories are much more exciting especially the one they want to hear repeatedly : that of two beautiful princesses who live in a pretty house by the beach, watch French cinema, play tennis, sneak up to the snoring watchman in the middle of the night, pull his long and curly moustache and  run away.