“Hey, Suma,” My mom calls. “Our cousin got into Harvard. Do you know what she did?” Scoff, eyeroll. Of course she’s talking about Ivy Leagues. A few hours later, I hear, “Come here and look at the Intel finalists.” Cue exasperation. Another day, it’s “I don’t care what your college counselor says; she’s just coddling you”. Right, of course my dad would know better than an expert on education. In other words, the college crunch has begun in the Anand household. Desi style.

My parents display symptoms of a standard case of Desi Smothering Syndrome. Common to many Indian parents, this disease causes parents to work, work, work their children until they get into the very best colleges. That is, they take all steps, short of breathing down their children’s necks, to ensure that the kids succeed. Surely, if a Desi parent’s kids work hard enough and smart enough, they will get into a good college. But, you know, no pressure or anything. And besides, because the parents will always be there to help, any success will be a joint success; any failure a joint failure.

My brothers and I scoffed at this. “Well, you’re not going to take the SATs,” I pointed out. “We are.” My mom laughed. Yet, still, the notion remains: college is a family deal. This mentality is the reason why my dad rolls his eyes and shrugs in a God-help-me sort of manner whenever I tell him to, you know, leave me alone. According to me, my business is not his business. According to him, it is his job as a parent to make my business his business. And, together, we can work towards getting into an Ivy League.

But if it were up to me, my parents would stay out of my college preparations. I would much prefer that I do what I want in my way in order to impress America’s top colleges. That I figure out myself the tricks and tools and formulas. That, eventually, I revel in my own success at getting into the Ivy Leagues. But I can see all those Desi parents – mine included – rolling their eyes right now. And I know, deep down, that the college process is not my own business. Because there is a fair chance that my methods will fail. My parents, after all, do have experience that I can rely on. Besides, my parents have already spent hours and hours trying to improve my chances of getting accepted into the top colleges. They’ve played a huge role in securing an internship for me at a biomedical lab, by hours of arguing and emailing and convincing. They’ve bought me Biology and Chemistry SAT prep books, hired tutors, and clapped and celebrated with me at my scores. They’ve sat down with me and argued and argued and finally, I’ve realized that their meddling is a fact of life.

I’ve also recognized that Desi Smothering Syndrome is really just another form of love. Maddening, irritating and omnipresent, yes, but love nevertheless. Because who doesn’t want their kids to be successful? To have the very best in life? Love manifests itself in different ways, whether it’s in the form of Chinese Tiger Mother toughness, Western acceptance and so-called “coddling,” or endless Indian intervention. So when I find myself ready to mangle cute puppies if I hear the word “Harvard” one more time, or when I’m an inch away from screaming my guts out upon reading another email about college (Love, Mom), I guess I’ll just have to remind myself that my parents want the best for me. Because that, my friends, is Desi love.

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