Interpreter of Maladies

Another story I read in Interpreter of Maladies was “Interpreter of Maladies.” I’m assuming thats the story the book was named for. Honestly, this story bothered me quite a bit. It was about a second generation Indian couple traveling to India with their children. This part that was annoying was that they seemed to know nothing about India. They were not people visiting their homeland, rather, they seemed like tourists. They didn’t know the native language evident in that their taxi driver had to speak in English to them, the mother constantly complained about everything obviously not wanting to be in India, and they were prideful that they were both born and raised in America instead of India (what disrespect to their native country). Neither of these things would I do if I were visiting India. My mother would probably slap me. You know, I hate it when kids raised here have no idea about their background. Like seriously, none of us our truly Americans (unless we’re Native Americans of course). We all immigrated to this country from somewhere else. I feel like my family history is a part of me and makes me who I am. Its really sustained me in my values, the decisions I make, and even what I want to pursue in college. Plus, I think knowing your family history is super cool. On a different note, this story also had an interesting plot that Mr. Kapasi, the taxi driver, totally thought the mother was hitting on him, however, she just wanted to share with him that her son is not her husband’s child....um ya. That was pretty nice use of dramatic irony right there. It was more like “‘Misinterpretation’ of Maladies” rather than “Interpretation of Maladies.” Weird mother...and poor Mr. Kapasi....