I rolled my eyes, I had faced this all my life, the way each country held a moral stance over the other. It was as though each nation had its own uniform and I wore the shirt of one, the trousers of the other, and both sides were shooting at me. Oh, the way each culture condemned the complained. India was backward and primitive, exotic. America was morally bankrupt, a cultural colonizer. But I knew this chiding was a flirtation. For below these criticisms, the truth was that each place held an allure for the other, a fascination and curiosity, and attraction and longing. They exchanged hamburgers for chicken curry, combined Ayurvedic and modern medicine, and swapped yoga for aerobics. I never witnessed such confused and beguiled lovers.
