It was the winter of 1977. The Air India flight had landed at O'Hare an hour back. Mr Brahmbhatt was standing at the ARRIVAL Terminal with a dazed look. The gold plated watch on his left hand, the printed shirt and the shining black leather shoes seemed completely out of place. As he walked out of the main gate, the cold winter breeze hit him on his face. It was December after all. Mr Brahmbhatt stood there for a few mins, wondering how to ask for help. The lack of self-confidence in English prevented him from going any forward. In less than 10 mins, he decided to retreat back. The famed Chicago wind chill had taken its toll. His ears and hands had gone numb. The ash-grey colored Raymonds sweater, gifted by his in-laws on his last birthday, was woefully inadequate. Once inside the airport, Mr Brahmbhatt opened up his VIP suitcase and frittered through a bunch of documents. There it was ! The piece of paper with Mr Nayak's phone number, the individual who was his neighbour's friend and had agreed to pick him up.
Sitting inside Mr Nayak's car, he felt a sense of elation and achievement. As the car took the fork to 285 North, he saw himself surrounded by a maze of freeways. Finally the feeling that he had arrived in US of A sunk in. Nayak took him to the Schaumburg suburb of Chicago, and the car finally screeched to a halt at a Shell Gas station. Oh, we ran out of Petrol said Brahmbhatt loudly. Nayak snubbed "It is Gas, and not petrol.". Besides, this was the convenience store that Nayak owned. And so it dawned on Brahmbhatt that this was the business that his neighbours and Nayak's family used to hype about. The small dingy store where barely three people could stand at the same time was a symbol of huge accomplishment back home. And, as Brahmbhatt was to realize soon, this was also the place where he would take his first tentative steps into the melting pot.
The next few months were a haze; spent in setting about life in this new country. Several times during this period, Brahmbhatt would toss and turn on his bed, unable to get any sleep or peace of mind. Staring at the ceiling, he would wonder how much his life had changed in the last few months. From a bank officer to a clerk at a convenience store, from being called "sir" to asking "How can I help you ?", from searing heat to biting cold, from surroundings that seemed noisy even at 10 in the night to a place that seemed frustratingly peaceful even at 10 in the morning, from finding relatives to be pestering to actually missing them, from a laid back morning with chai and newspaper to a hectic morning with coffee on the go and news on the radio, from bright full of life evenings to dark dull depressing evenings, from having a four course lunch to a mid day meal of sandwich and chips, from celebrating Diwali to looking forward to Christmas, from an idle sunday of afternoon siesta and papdi chat to a sunday of household chores and salad. So much had changed. Infact his present and his past were so different that it was difficult to imagine that they were of the same individual. All for his kids. All for giving them a better, more secure future.
It was the summer of 2008. A young presidential hopeful had taken US and the world by storm. While the "Yes We Can" presidential campaign played out on TV; Brahmbhatt gazed out from the patio of his condo, a three bedroom apartment in Twilight -- an assisted living community for senior citizens. It was his decision to move to this place. After Usha lost her battle to breast cancer last year, this seemed to be the most practical choice. No, infact the kids were more than keen to have him with them. It was he who resisted. It was he who felt uncomfortable at that thought. Partly because he wanted to remain independent and partly because it was difficult for him to relate to their lives. His elder son Mandeep, who now called himself Mandy, was barely 36; but his monthly expenses already included alimony support. His daughter Ambika, who now called herself Amber, had entered her 30s as well but marriage seemed a distant and more worryingly an unlikely proposition. She seemed determined to continue with a live-in relationship, a marriage seemed like a trap to her.
Strangely enough, Brahmbhatt felt disconnected from his own blood. Generation gap exists everywhere but this seemed much different and bigger than that. He could not help but wonder if things would have been any different had he been in India. It was that classic dilemma which immigrants tend to have from time to time. Would the conservative Indian society be better for his children ? Would Mandy have worked more on his marriage; instead of throwing in the towel after merely 15 months ? Would Amber be more accomodating to the thought of marriage ? Possibly. Probably. But then, he shouldn't forget that it was the US society which had given Amber a new life after she had fallen prey to drugs during her sophomore year. Instead of shunning her, the US society had given her a helping hand with the belief that "Everybody deserves a second chance". The John Hopkins rehabilitation center had brought an individual lost in her life back on the right track. Mandy too was a product that got blossomed in a US society which encouraged to "Do whatever you are interested in". Nobody in India would have supported his interest in wildlife photography, a hobby that became his passion and got him a job with the National Geographic magazine. In a nation of 1.2 billion people and scarce resources, it would have been difficult to take a different offbeat path. But US, apart from being resource rich, had another important quality: an open mind.
As Brahmbhatt sat on the recliner, his mind continued to wander. Maybe he should have never come to US. Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have relocated to India after a few years in US. Maybe he shouldn't have. Shakespeare's Hamlet probably had it easier than this. In general, it is good to have options but this is one case when the options lead to a lot of heartburn. Let's just call it a curse; The Immigrant Curse.
PS: I absolutely need to acknowledge Jhumpa Lahiri for this post, an author for whom I have high regard and whose works I love and adore.
Sitting inside Mr Nayak's car, he felt a sense of elation and achievement. As the car took the fork to 285 North, he saw himself surrounded by a maze of freeways. Finally the feeling that he had arrived in US of A sunk in. Nayak took him to the Schaumburg suburb of Chicago, and the car finally screeched to a halt at a Shell Gas station. Oh, we ran out of Petrol said Brahmbhatt loudly. Nayak snubbed "It is Gas, and not petrol.". Besides, this was the convenience store that Nayak owned. And so it dawned on Brahmbhatt that this was the business that his neighbours and Nayak's family used to hype about. The small dingy store where barely three people could stand at the same time was a symbol of huge accomplishment back home. And, as Brahmbhatt was to realize soon, this was also the place where he would take his first tentative steps into the melting pot.
The next few months were a haze; spent in setting about life in this new country. Several times during this period, Brahmbhatt would toss and turn on his bed, unable to get any sleep or peace of mind. Staring at the ceiling, he would wonder how much his life had changed in the last few months. From a bank officer to a clerk at a convenience store, from being called "sir" to asking "How can I help you ?", from searing heat to biting cold, from surroundings that seemed noisy even at 10 in the night to a place that seemed frustratingly peaceful even at 10 in the morning, from finding relatives to be pestering to actually missing them, from a laid back morning with chai and newspaper to a hectic morning with coffee on the go and news on the radio, from bright full of life evenings to dark dull depressing evenings, from having a four course lunch to a mid day meal of sandwich and chips, from celebrating Diwali to looking forward to Christmas, from an idle sunday of afternoon siesta and papdi chat to a sunday of household chores and salad. So much had changed. Infact his present and his past were so different that it was difficult to imagine that they were of the same individual. All for his kids. All for giving them a better, more secure future.
It was the summer of 2008. A young presidential hopeful had taken US and the world by storm. While the "Yes We Can" presidential campaign played out on TV; Brahmbhatt gazed out from the patio of his condo, a three bedroom apartment in Twilight -- an assisted living community for senior citizens. It was his decision to move to this place. After Usha lost her battle to breast cancer last year, this seemed to be the most practical choice. No, infact the kids were more than keen to have him with them. It was he who resisted. It was he who felt uncomfortable at that thought. Partly because he wanted to remain independent and partly because it was difficult for him to relate to their lives. His elder son Mandeep, who now called himself Mandy, was barely 36; but his monthly expenses already included alimony support. His daughter Ambika, who now called herself Amber, had entered her 30s as well but marriage seemed a distant and more worryingly an unlikely proposition. She seemed determined to continue with a live-in relationship, a marriage seemed like a trap to her.
Strangely enough, Brahmbhatt felt disconnected from his own blood. Generation gap exists everywhere but this seemed much different and bigger than that. He could not help but wonder if things would have been any different had he been in India. It was that classic dilemma which immigrants tend to have from time to time. Would the conservative Indian society be better for his children ? Would Mandy have worked more on his marriage; instead of throwing in the towel after merely 15 months ? Would Amber be more accomodating to the thought of marriage ? Possibly. Probably. But then, he shouldn't forget that it was the US society which had given Amber a new life after she had fallen prey to drugs during her sophomore year. Instead of shunning her, the US society had given her a helping hand with the belief that "Everybody deserves a second chance". The John Hopkins rehabilitation center had brought an individual lost in her life back on the right track. Mandy too was a product that got blossomed in a US society which encouraged to "Do whatever you are interested in". Nobody in India would have supported his interest in wildlife photography, a hobby that became his passion and got him a job with the National Geographic magazine. In a nation of 1.2 billion people and scarce resources, it would have been difficult to take a different offbeat path. But US, apart from being resource rich, had another important quality: an open mind.
As Brahmbhatt sat on the recliner, his mind continued to wander. Maybe he should have never come to US. Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have relocated to India after a few years in US. Maybe he shouldn't have. Shakespeare's Hamlet probably had it easier than this. In general, it is good to have options but this is one case when the options lead to a lot of heartburn. Let's just call it a curse; The Immigrant Curse.
PS: I absolutely need to acknowledge Jhumpa Lahiri for this post, an author for whom I have high regard and whose works I love and adore.
