An American Conundrum

I’m a citizen of India, residing and working in the United States of America. With the recent American presidential elections and the spate of rhetoric around visas and immigration, a lot of immigrants who are in this country, are quite anxious and concerned. Rightfully so. And I find a high volume of literature on the Indian media about the immigration news coming out of America on a regular basis, and often see the jargon spiral quite out of tone of reality and end up in places closer to sensationalism.

The intent of this piece is not to go into detail about how right or wrong the new President’s immigration policies are, but to more pen down a very biased approach in India and how India views the system here. While I personally have my reservations on some of the recent changes in immigration policies starting to be enforced in United States, I still hate to point out that even despite that, even if America implements all the policies that the President talks about, it will still admit more immigrants into the country than India does. Officially, at least.

Let’s face it folks, we are a highly immigrant unfriendly nation. While a lot can be said about the richness our culture and civilization, we cannot claim to be a nation that has been friendly to immigrants. In fact, we have often had strong anti-immigration stances. We’ve had cases of vandalism and protests when a state accused people from other states, which are a part of the same union and salute the same flag, of coming into the former and “taking away” jobs. Sure, we have had our high points, like the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971 during and after which India absorbed a lot of people fleeing from war and persecution. Another example would be India’s resettlement of Sri Lankan Tamils during some of the bloodiest fighting between Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam and the Sri Lankan armed forces. But I’d argue that was more borne out of an anti-Pakistan or pro-Tamil sentiment, a sentiment of “them and us being from a common background or race”, rather than a genuine desire to help refugees.

The recent spate of refugees from war torn regions in Iraq and Syria is probably the biggest case in point. The world was truly facing a refugee crises. Western European nations and some other countries like United States, Canada, Australia and Brazil to name a few did choose to accept people fleeing war from these countries. While you and I can agree or disagree on whether everyone was “fair” and took in a “fair share”, what is indisputable is that these nations actually took in people. Tried, even if halfheartedly, to help them get settled into their countries. And where was India in all these global efforts? Zilch. Our silence and inaction was loud and clear.

There has probably never been a period more tumultuous and non-peaceful in history than the present times. The world has faced crises, the world will continue to do so and weather them. India has had her chance, but we have not helped (In all fairness, India has a point to argue that she didn’t do anything to precipitate a lot of these crises in any way. And I’ll grant her that!). The world has never looked up to India in such situations, and India has never responded like befitting a large, democratic and free nation.  We have rarely shown the resolve to accept and integrate refugees or immigrants into our society, and we probably never will. And in such a circumstance, it is unfair to stand on top of Gateway of India and shout across to the Lady Liberty complaining about her immigration policies. 

The Bitter Coffee

This corner side cafe occupied a special place in my life. I discovered it when I moved to the city to start my professional career. This was on the way to my workplace. One quick skip and hop to get a coffee once in a while. As time passed, this gradually developed into a routine. Somewhere over the course of the first year in this locality, I developed a personal bond with this café.

She joined my office a year after me. And as someone who was of almost same age as her but had a year or so experience in the group, I was assigned to mentor and on-board her. The frequent interactions initially were professional. And as it invariably happens in a lot of such situations, somewhere the professional barriers got breached and we encroached into each other’s personal spaces. It was during one of our initial interactions in office that I suggested to head out for a coffee at this café and she came along. Slowly, as our relationship blossomed, the café and its corner table became a very usual setting.  We shared out thoughts, aspirations and dreams over countless cups of coffee. We dreamt about a dream wedding, an unforgettable honeymoon and a happy married life sitting under the roof of this coffee shop delightfully savoring lattes and cappuccinos.

Somewhere along, the world of idealism gave way to the pragmatism of real life scenarios. There were wedges between us, the clashes became one too often. And at last, yesterday, the Sunday before Christmas, at the entrance of this very café, this very location that had become a part of us and our relationship, she said goodbye and good luck to me one final time. Around us, as the melodious Christmas carnival drumbeats echoed, she walked away from me and from us, the final time.

Yesterday is over, and I know I won’t get over it anytime soon. I came up to the cashier as usual today morning and ordered a cup, tall and black. This cuppa, this Joe in my hand, is my last from this café. The coffee today tastes particularly bitter, and the reason is not the sugar I failed to add. Too many memories clog my veins, too much nostalgia lingers enclosed within these walls. Goodbye, dear café. Maybe our paths might cross someday in future. I, for one, wouldn’t bet on it though.

The Linguist

I was assigned to man the classifieds section of the newspaper that day. It was a peaceful setting, and one, where I thought I could work on some ideas for an Op-Ed piece that I had promised my editor I’d deliver within the week. As I was writing and striking off ideas that were popping in my mind, I was interrupted by a group of youngsters who appeared in front of my desk.

The guy in the center introduced himself and his friends to me and said to me that he wanted to post an obituary in the next day’s newspaper about his grandfather’s brother who passed away a few hours ago and he inquired if I could direct him to the right section.

“You are at the right place” I said. Pushing a pen and piece of paper towards him, I said, “Do write down the matter to be published and hand it over to me. You can pay the fees at the counter on the ground floor.”

No soon as I had pushed the pen and paper towards the group, their faces lost the ring of purpose with which they had come in. His face switched to reflect a confused state and his peers were looking at the ceiling and floor of the building with a new found esoteric interest.

“I do not know how to compose in Malayalam sir. I studied in an English medium establishment.”

Aah so this explained the tectonic behavioral shift of the group.

“Not a problem. You can compose it in English, I will translate it into Malayalam for you and give it inside.”

Now, the expression on their faces switched to chaos. One of his friends muttered from behind, “Hey man, do what they want and then come back down. We’ll wait outside, near the car park.”

Before the young man could open his mouth, his friends around him vanished. And he was back to staring at me, with a flushed look at my face. It was starting to dawn on me the reason for this unique group behavior. Neither himself nor any of his mates was confident enough to draft the same in English as well, the language over which they supposedly command over!

As he stood before me coyly, with his feet drawing imaginary circles on the floor below, my face betrayed no emotion. “What’s the matter?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Please excuse me sir, I just remember I have an urgent chore to attend to. I’ll compose the matter from home and be back shortly.”

Saying this, he turned back and almost ran away from my presence.

I caught the back side of his T shirt when he retreated out of sight. It read “I was born intelligent but education ruined me.”