Dhaal and Chawal. It's the typical dinner that my family eats most nights. Rice and lentils. We gather around the table and have a light-hearted discussion of what I did in school, and what went on in the workplace. Last week, however, we were joined by my grandmother.

At this point, I should give you a little background about my grandmother. When she was 5, she crossed the newly founded border from Pakistan to India, where she remained for most her life. She has suffered hardships and successes, alike. And much to my amazement, even at her old age, she moved to the United States along with my uncle last March.

The dinner table routine began quite the same. Mats were set, plates were placed, rice and lentils were served. And the conversation also began as usual. My day was good, how was yours? And then the topic turned to politics. At this point, my father and I began a rant about the political system when we suddenly stopped. My grandmother had been quietly listening to our conversation, but did not comprehend any of it. I had forgotten how little of English she actually understood. Besides the regular "Hello" and "Thank you," she only spoke Hindi and Sindhi. My father turned to her and began an explanation of the American political system in Hindi. I tried to chime in, using my broken language skills to somehow bridge the barrier between my grandmother and myself. What amazed me, however, was not only the content of the information, but her intent on taking it all in. She would attempt to make connections between politics here, and politics in India; her wrinkles furrowed deeper when she was deep in thought, conjuring up an analogy that would help her comprehend the slew of information we were presenting to her about the two-party system.

From politics, we moved to history. And we began a discussion of World War I, the Holocaust, and the Middle East conflict. As I would provide input with the broken Hindi and the mixture of Sindhi words I mustered up, I realized how lost she must really be. She had no knowledge of the current events that were whirring around us. She limits her television and news information to the sole Indian channel that we had. Saturday mornings, when the paper comes out and the Comics, News, and Business sections are grabbed up, she is satisfied with flipping through the sale papers and looking at the pictures.

That one day when we were able to describe to her what exactly was going on in the world was the first day I could connect with my grandmother. We had an actual conversation where there was a back-and-forth exchange of ideas and thoughts. I realized that just by making the effort of speaking to her I could help.

With the constantly changing atmosphere of global events around us, it felt good to take some time and almost teach someone about them. No matter that the individual was older and wiser than I. She was in a new environment, a fish totally out of water, and I even learned a lot from just talking with her. So go for it. Talk to someone who you believe you have a disconnect with. Make an effort to connect, and you may be surprised. For now though, I'm headed down to the kitchen. I made my grandmother promise to teach me the best way to cook some dhaal and chawal.

Rohini Bhatia is a senior at Mt. Hebron High School. You can e-mail her at mphelan@theviewnewspapers.com.

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