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“Arjun, is that what they call you?”

That is the first question Lily’s father Bertel asks as he shakes hands with me. I am surprised he pronounced my name correctly. Bertel is a tall, lean man with well-cropped hair that curls on his neck. He projects a dignified look even in his casual clothes and is comfortable with himself. I don’t see Lily. I guess she is inside helping her mom or something.

“Yes, sir,” I answer softly, looking around the room.

“I can tell you are an Indian. I like the Indian mythological masterpiece, the Bhagavad Gita. That’s where lord Krishna advises Arjun, your namesake, the Hindu God. Krishna advises Arjun about his duty in the war with his stepbrothers. Isn’t that like a Bible to Hindus?”

“You are right, sir. But unfortunately, I don’t know much about our mythology. I grew up in America. My dad perhaps knows a lot about it. I’ve heard him mention it a few times.”

“Come on. You may have grown up in America, but you should not ignore your rich culture and heritage. Furthermore, I read that Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb, liked the Gita, and he read chapters from it the night before they were going to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Oppenheimer was so disturbed by what he was going to do that he needed some advice.”

“And he turned to the Gita?”

“Yes.”

I feel a pang of guilt. It is incredible to meet a foreign person who is interested and knowledgeable about my culture. The reaction he had when I told him that I just went along with the religious practices my parents followed, only because I had to, showed his empathy towards people of different cultures. I realize that mom and dad were doing their best to maintain our traditions in a foreign land while trying to assimilate into a different culture. I feel proud of them.

“You are so right, sir,” I say for lack of anything else. “May I ask you something if you permit me?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Bertel says in his easy manner.

“How did you get interested in Hindu culture?”

“Young man, I have to travel a lot in my job. I have visited India many times. I like the vibrant society, the traditions, and the colorful people. I am also interested in comparative religion.”

“I’m impressed.”

Bertel smiles. There is a period of silence. I try to find words to continue the conversation. What does one talk to a person older than oneself? I don’t think I could discuss sports with him. I don’t even know what is currently going on back home, and in Germany too. I had been too busy with work on the base. Bertel breaks the silence.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asks.

He points to the sofa by the wall and adds, “Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

When I reply that I would prefer a beer, he disappears inside. Was it right for me to ask for an alcoholic beverage? This is Europe, and I am of drinking age. I sit silently on the sofa, looking around the room and the decorations. The room is moderately furnished. Nothing lavish, but the furniture displays a unique European style unlike the mass-produced American variety. There are large family photos and some of Bertel from his foreign trips. I notice one of them standing in front of the Taj Mahal.

I am glad when Lily shows up. She is wearing a yellow ankle-length dress with a pink floral design. She has light makeup to accentuate her fair skin. I cannot take my eyes off her. She sits on the sofa next to me. I smell the perfume she is wearing.

“Did dad give you a dose of philosophy?” she asks.

“He’s a nice man, your dad. I liked him a lot.”

“Yes. He reads a lot and talks about the various religions around the world and how every religion preaches the same thing.”

“I am amazed that he knew about the Bhagavad Gita. I have heard about it, but don’t know much about it. I feel so ashamed of myself.”

“You need not be,” Lily says, gently.

“I think I should have listened to my dad more and tried to understand where he’s coming from. Try to understand his persistence in continuing to follow Indian traditions. It’s not easy to leave the rituals one has followed and immediately accept something new. It takes time.”

Lily moves closer and folds her legs up while straightening her dress with her right hand to cover her knees. She turns and faces me.

“Look. You need not feel guilty about yourself. It’s not your fault that you were growing up in America. You are an American by birth. I would say you did a superb job of assimilation. You didn’t refuse to accept your dad’s traditions.”

“You’re right about that.”

“And you followed your heart. How many young people have the guts to follow their instincts and succeed?”

“But I have not succeeded in anything.”

“Don’t be so naïve. From what you have told me, you have succeeded, at the games you played, at music, at selecting a nontraditional career.”

I am surprised by what Lily is saying and her understanding.

“Those are not success stories,” I reply. “Those are the things I liked to do, and those were in my teenage years.”

“Have patience. I know you will, one day, do something special to be proud of.”

I wonder where Lily got the wisdom to say all these things. “Like father, like daughter,” as they say. I suddenly feel attracted to her. I remembered when I had yelled, ” She likes me, she likes me.” I turn to face her and move even closer. She looked so beautiful. I pull her towards me, hug her, and plant a kiss on her lips before realizing that Bertel is standing next to me with a beer in his hand.

I quickly move away from Lily, run my hand through my hair, and stand up to take the beer.

“Sorry,” I say.

“No, no, no. You need not be. We have heard many good things about you from Lily. I’m glad you like her. Now let’s join the others on the lawn and celebrate Hans and Heidi’s engagement. “

I follow him with Lily beside me, holding my hand.