Parents of first-generation Indian girls struggle with our lack of desire to jump at first opportunities. The first Ivy League college with an offer of admission. The first top corporation, law firm, or hospital system with an invitation to join their teams. The first well-educated and well-employed guy from the same religion and caste (jackpot!) with a marriage proposal. Our parents’ first opportunities were usually their only opportunities in life, so I understand their fear of losing the bird in hand in case the one in the bush flies away after pooping on your head.

Saumya Dave does a fantastic job of depicting life for first-generation Indian girls like me, who spent our teenage years navigating the 1990s with parents, uncles, and aunties who all wanted “what is best” for us but usually forgot to ask for our input. As a result, we understood their definition of best as something either they did not have when they were younger or that was culturally acceptable based on age.

Nandini did not have a choice when it came to marriage. She married a man chosen by her parents because it was culturally acceptable to be married than not to be. Therefore, she decides to not hold it against her daughter, Simran, for dating someone (not culturally acceptable) from the same Indian community (culturally acceptable if he checks the money and education boxes) and becoming engaged to be married (VERY culturally acceptable!).

When Simran decides to do something not culturally acceptable, however, Nandini reacts the way most of our mothers did when we disappointed them. Indian parents’ reactions typically have three phases, and occur in no specific order, but I’ll order them below using the collective experience of the girls with whom I grew up. You will just have to read the book to learn what Simran does, the order of Nandini’s reactions, and how things turn out!

Phase 1: Self-blame. “Where did we go wrong? We came to this country for a better life, not to lose our culture.” Or something like that. Most Indian girls in my generation dated undercover. We went to the library, the park, and the mall together. A LOT. While one of us was on a date, the rest of us turned into Secret Service. On the lookout for uncles and aunties who would rat us out to our parents and shame our entire family, including those who lived in India and had never met us. Dave’s depiction of the dating lives of Simran and her Indian friends brought on major flashbacks that made me remember how my group of Indian girls was like the second family I did not appreciate enough. We were selective BECAUSE we could not have secrets. FULL transparency was MANDATORY for protection and coverage because, at any moment, you may be called upon to testify that a friend was with you buying a Bollywood soundtrack and not making out with a boy at the movies. And we had to coordinate all of this without cell phones or smart phones. We were land sailors with our own navigation systems.

Phase 2: Guilt trips. “I did not have the choices you are throwing away.” When Simran is tempted by the bird in the bush, Nandini gives her a similar guilt trip about choices. Our parents believed that two Indian people dated BECAUSE they planned to get married. Each “relationship” (defined loosely to also include potential suitors we spoke to on the phone for a month and nothing more) that did not result in marriage counted against our prospects. Something was wrong with us for not making the most obvious choice and choosing to “throw it away.” Each “broken relationship” with a prospect was a bigger source of shame than the one before because “In our culture, girls do not hang out with boys before marriage.” Every time someone said that I wanted to ask, “So they hang out with boys AFTER marriage?” But I didn’t because that would have triggered a major Phase 1 reaction. Similarly, Nandini struggles to understand why Simran has no fear of losing the bird in hand. I don’t blame Nandini though. Like most of our mothers, Nandini did not have the opportunity to date. She did not have the opportunity to check the bird in hand to make sure it wouldn’t poop on her anyway. But like Simran, most of us made sure the bird in hand was worth holding on to before letting it go for the one in the bush. And, in the process, some of us ended up immune to guilt trips. Thanks Moms.

Phase 3: Fear installation. “You will not be able to marry a nice boy from our community now unless we use the extended family network to find you one.” By extended, they meant global. Indian girls growing up in America are in high demand for Indian boys looking to settle down in America. If we somehow managed to lose enough birds in hand, our parents, uncles, and aunties got busy looking for as many birds in as many bushes as possible. The goal was to market us as “nice Indian girls” who wanted nothing more than “to take care of our husbands and their families.” I was 23 years old when an aunty presented a potential suitor this way. The fellow had a non-Indian girlfriend whom he loved very much but parents on both sides had objected vehemently. So, this fellow and his girlfriend decided to end their relationship. Since he could not marry the love of his life, he was now looking for that “nice Indian girl” I mentioned earlier. The fear for this aunty was that I was approaching my marriage expiration age of 25 and had no prospects. Logically, a heartbroken man was my best option. Lucky me.

Saumya Dave, thank you for writing this book and making me laugh with nostalgia.