Interracial Romance and the Indian Mindset

Interracial Romance in Indian Families

I recently watched a thoughtful discussion by Zarna Garg on interracial romance, featuring her own family. Based in the US, their candid conversation offers a refreshing glimpse into how Indian-American families are navigating such topics. It was heartening to see everyone, parents and kids, engage so openly. In many Indian households, these conversations either happen too late or not at all, often wrapped in hesitation or silence. But here was a family talking honestly about dating, identity, and interracial relationships. A big shoutout to them for their openness and clarity. It’s these dialogues that make a real difference.

Watch the video below:

Thoughts

I’ve spent most of my life abroad before choosing to return to India. Yet even while living overseas, I always knew my relationships would be with Indian men. Perhaps it’s because I studied in an Indian school and mostly socialized within the Indian community, even outside the country. I look Indian, dress Indian, and speak with an Indian accent. So it was natural to feel more comfortable with Indian men.

However, in today’s globalized world, with increasing interracial mingling, millennials like me must come to terms with the fact that more non-Indians are likely to become part of our families. Someone recently remarked how the world is blending in such a way that you can no longer easily tell someone’s ethnicity. Even appearances are getting “globalized.” It was an eye-opener. I’ve come to realize this holds especially true in the Indian context. Today’s new-generation kids often no longer look or sound traditionally Indian, especially the kids in Indian metros. Their accents, fashion, and even body language reflect a more global identity.

A few months ago, a relative married a Spanish man, the first white partner in our family. Surprisingly, everyone, including the older generation, was welcoming. No drama. No resistance. That in itself feels like progress. Our extended family no longer fusses over caste or religion in love marriages. Marrying someone from a “lower caste” has become normal (though I personally reject terms like “lower” and “upper” caste, which are inherently divisive). Only a few super-senior relatives seem to hold on to rigid views, but even that seems to be fading.

I wonder if this shift is due to the older generation’s growing access to YouTube and social media. Many now watch global discussions on love, identity, and acceptance. One moment really stood out: a senior aunt watched Kaathal, a Malayalam film about same-sex love, and casually remarked, “Being gay or lesbian is fine. It’s not a disease.” That kind of acceptance would’ve been unthinkable even a decade ago. But it’s happening now, and that matters.

More recently, one of my nieces fell in love with a white guy. It’s a bit more delicate because it hits closer to home. While I’m happy she found someone, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious. Our cultures are worlds apart, and it’s not just the couple that has to adjust, but the families too. At this age, do I or her parents have the patience? I’m unsure. On second thought, it doesn’t concern me or her family, as the relationship is hers to navigate. Still, as Zarna Garg wisely said in her family discussion, any relationship can thrive if the core values align: education, family, career, loyalty, and health. Everything else is secondary and can be worked around.

One comment from Zarna’s husband lingered with me. He mentioned that their eldest daughter has only dated white men, and he took it personally. He had read somewhere that girls whose fathers aren’t ideal husbands are more likely to do this. That struck a chord. My niece also has a pattern of dating white men, and to be honest, her father isn’t exactly the perfect partner either. Could there be a subconscious link? I wouldn’t dare bring it up now, especially since she lives abroad, but maybe someday in person.

There’s so much our generation is still figuring out. As millennials in our 40s, we stand between tradition and transition. We want to be open-minded and inclusive, but also grounded. At times, it worries us to see the younger generation drifting away from tradition. There’s a quiet fear: will our culture someday fade into oblivion? But these are changing times, and change demands a degree of acceptance. We may not always agree, but we must learn to adapt. I also see a growing trend among young parents today: trying too hard to be politically correct, often avoiding difficult conversations just to stay in their children’s good books. This might be a measure to ensure they don’t repeat their parents’ mistakes of being too restrictive. But experience teaches us that hard truths, spoken with love, are just as necessary today as it was yesterday.

Some of the advice I dismissed in my 20s now makes perfect sense. You only begin to understand your parents once you reach their age. That’s how life unfolds. You gain clarity with time. Until then, all we can do is trust, adapt, and hope it all works out in the end.

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Photo by Bhavitya Indora

Fading Friendships

Photo by Rodrigo Souza

Being an introvert, I often find it challenging to make friends easily. By the time I become comfortable with someone, I’m branded an arrogant snob. There is no win-win here. This was true as a youngster and even more so as an adult. The only difference is that new friendships are more challenging for grown-up introverts. As we socialize less than before, our social circles become negligible. By our 30s or 40s, we are too busy with work to care about anything else.

It also hurts when a friendship is falling apart.

Sometimes, after a period of time, you realize you and some of your friends are no longer compatible. You laugh at different jokes; you start taking an interest in different topics and don’t like talking about the same things anymore.

We move on, evolve, and so does our friendship with the people around us.

I remember making bitchy friends when I was in a gossiping phase.

I remember making sweet friends when I was in a vulnerable state.

Some of us bond over the uplifting, enriching positives, whereas some share a fun camaraderie maliciously giggling over the sinful negatives.

The universe gifts us with different kinds of friends during different seasons. The caveat being these seasons are exclusively yours. Each season can be as long or short as your destiny allows them to be. And it is rare that a friend sticks through it all. When you are in summer and in need of light, love, and passion, your friend might be in winter, in need of subtlety, distance, and introspection. There might come a point in the future when you both are summers, or you both are winters. But life is too short to wait for that perfect harmonious season because it might never even arrive.

Over time, I realized I was just not comfortable gossiping and backbiting just for the sake of maintaining a friendship. I was a part of a group (let’s call it The Umbridges) who would say the meanest things about the people they didn’t like – unwarranted comments related to looks, character, and lifestyle. I was no saint. I used to enjoy it tremendously back then. But when I reached my 30s, I couldn’t do it all the time anymore. It didn’t feel right, the gang didn’t feel right, and being in this group of friends felt.. suffocating. I didn’t want to hear any of their nasty jibes. It was obvious to me that the amount of bitching we were doing was not healthy. It felt like I was on Twitter 24×7.

I now wonder if this need for a break from The Umbridges was new or if it was always buried within me, waiting for the right time to surface. Eventually, it did surface, and I started keeping a distance from friends who didn’t feel right for me.

Then they started keeping their distance as well (rightfully so).

The Umbridges slowly started fading. A mere ghost of its previous version. Now the friendship is limited to birthday or festival wishes, casual exchanges, and social media comments.

I feel at peace with this change.

But I also feel sad.

Because no matter how wrong someone was for you or how toxic, you miss the connection it gave you at one point in life. That connection meant something then, though it feels tiresome now. The word “connection” usually has a positive ring to it. But it can exclusively stem from negativity (gossip, backbiting, complaining) or positivity (encouragement, care, good humor). Both can be equally addictive. You often move on from this addiction, but you never forget the feelings you experienced at that point. You were genuine, and you gave it your best.

All types of connections are hard to let go of.

I remember a friend forlornly telling a younger, bitchier me that she didn’t want to gossip with me anymore about anyone as she felt terrible about it. I didn’t understand that emotion then, but now I do. I understand this feeling of desperation that prompts you to stop talking negatively. I cannot describe the feeling in words. It is akin to getting your supply of clean air disrupted, and now you desperately want it back.

You realize sometimes friendships need to fade for you to sprout back to life, to start afresh. You also realize it is going to be that more difficult to find new friends because your social circle diminishes as you age and your affinity for small talk reduces. As a kid, all it took was a new class or a walk to the park to find new friends and initiate a fresh beginning without egos or dozen trepidations coming in between. Now, the best we can do is roll around in bed, sighing and hoping that one day we will find someone, anyone, to share a deep connection with – a friend after our own heart.