Sunday, December 5, 2021
For nearly 20 years, I was Parthasarathi Mitra's white, American daughter-in-law. I think that he was pleasantly surprised to learn that I did not fit his stereotype of a gun-toting, flag-waving, don't-tread-on-me American. We always enjoyed talking politics, and the memories I have of debating with my father-in-law will always make me smile. In 2006, when Pro took me to India for the first time to visit with his parents and extended family in Kolkata, Pro and I took a side trip to see the Taj Mahal. What we failed to take into account was the extra night we spent in Agra before returning to Kolkata via train from Delhi. We were overdue by a day and had not contacted Pro's parents. When we returned to the family home in Kolkata, my father-in-law was so angry he barely spoke to us. Later that same day, as Pro and I were preparing to have dinner at the house of another relative, my father-in-law came to our room and broke down in tears, saying, "You don't know how precious you are!" We hugged, then laughed, and then all was well again. You see, he thought that his son and daughter-in-law had been kidnapped, or worse, and he was worried sick and dreaded being the one to tell my parents that their daughter was missing in India. To my father-in-law: You don't know how precious you were to all of us, and we honor you as a husband, a father, a grandfather, a father-in-law, a brother, and a friend. We will forever feel your absence, and will forever be richer for having known you.
