"I" for "Indian"
It hits you when after so long standing in a queue that spanned miles, after a 10 second interview, you come out with an end to end smile, glorious as though having won the Battle of Panipat. In two days, the courier service brings it to you, your American Visa. That’s when it hits you, and your family.
In no time, you are on your flight, feeling sick about leaving home, scared about how you would fare in a whole strange world. You know your family is feeling like having a part of their body amputated, and yet you smile to them and say a spurious “I wont be gone for long”.
Enter the US of A. Different people, different perspectives, a whole different attitude to things. You adjust. You look at them and learn. Mimic.
In a couple of years, while you had no time to realize or notice anything around, you find yourself in a high paying job, a mini family here with you, consisting of a sole member, a wife you married hurriedly during a short business trip to India. You are still trying hard to have her pursue her masters.
Boy, haven’t you changed. You eat while driving to work, you have telecons late in the night. You speak with an accent that sounds cool to you, and never fails to amuse your wife. You buy frozen food. You talk straight and you talk a lot. Your face goes through a zillion expressions as you say a single word. Your parents call on your wife’s birthday and remind you to wish her. You celebrate only Thanksgiving and Christmas.
You detest going to India, and when you go you seem like an unfit. Unfit in a place you grew up. Unfit in a place you belong.
All your life, in an attempt to fit into another society , you have become someone you are not. You have forgotten how it is to be “you”. An Indian.
In no time, you are on your flight, feeling sick about leaving home, scared about how you would fare in a whole strange world. You know your family is feeling like having a part of their body amputated, and yet you smile to them and say a spurious “I wont be gone for long”.
Enter the US of A. Different people, different perspectives, a whole different attitude to things. You adjust. You look at them and learn. Mimic.
In a couple of years, while you had no time to realize or notice anything around, you find yourself in a high paying job, a mini family here with you, consisting of a sole member, a wife you married hurriedly during a short business trip to India. You are still trying hard to have her pursue her masters.
Boy, haven’t you changed. You eat while driving to work, you have telecons late in the night. You speak with an accent that sounds cool to you, and never fails to amuse your wife. You buy frozen food. You talk straight and you talk a lot. Your face goes through a zillion expressions as you say a single word. Your parents call on your wife’s birthday and remind you to wish her. You celebrate only Thanksgiving and Christmas.
You detest going to India, and when you go you seem like an unfit. Unfit in a place you grew up. Unfit in a place you belong.
All your life, in an attempt to fit into another society , you have become someone you are not. You have forgotten how it is to be “you”. An Indian.
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"Ignorance is BLISS"