Sunday, April 20, 2003		Life Ties

Alienated in a foreign land
Taru Bahl

HARI was extremely intelligent and even while he was still in school his fiery spirit and clarity of thought were marvelled at and used as a reference point. Through the school years he was the undisputed topper and there was a huge gap between the first and second positions. His over-competitive spirit, his parents feared, might lead to a burn-out. They knew that while it didn't really matter whether or not he topped in the junior classes, it certainly made a difference as he moved towards college. But Hari was exceptional.

He cleared his IIT entrance exam and was awarded a gold medal at the time of passing out. After that, he went to the USA on a fully- paid scholarship. His parents were slightly apprehensive. Coming from a typical North Indian middle class family, they had a certain role in mind for their only son.

Although they had never let him feel weighed down by their expectations of him, his crossover to a foreign land was frightening. What if he did not return ? What if he got married to a firangi who would be disdainful? What if he turned into a self-obsessed westerner? They needn't have worried. Hari became even more responsible after going to the US. He called up every week, sent huge gift parcels through whosoever was coming to India, did not ask his parents for any money during his study years and came home annually. It was not a surprise when he was picked up by one of America's most reputed and employer friendly companies at a phenomenal salary. He soon got his parents to come and join him. Though he suggested that they move permanently to the USA, they were not comfortable with the idea. Besides, somewhere they nurtured the secret desire that perhaps he would return to the homeland. Their son was settled, doing well and they had no reason to complain.

When he asked them to look for an Indian girl for him to get married to, their joy knew no bounds. It was such relief to know that their son had not got "corrupted". The girl was also an engineering graduate and it seemed as if all the stars were well aligned. It was what everyone called an "appropriate match".

Two years down the line and no one could recognise Hari and his wife Sita. While she had embraced the ethos of the West, be it in terms of dressing, attitudes or behaviour he had strengthened his earthy Punjabiness. Gradually, a chasm developed between the two. Their growth was taking place on planes which were parallel, with little hope of merging.

Fortunately, there were no children and when Sita decided to part ways it was at a time when both realised that there was no point hanging on to a relationship which was dead, or rather which had not been cemented with the right ingredients in the first place. The divorce hit Hari badly. It destabilised him and turned him into a recluse. His work became his escape. One of the star performers in his IT software division, he was sent to various countries on short assignments.

Earlier, he used to decline them but now he looked forward to change, perhaps he was desperate to be too busy to think. The final recognition of his skills came when his company gave him the charge of training the senior management. It felt nice to be acknowledged and not be marginalised because of one's colour, caste or religion. This was before September 11, 2002. That one morning changed the life of many of Hari's ilk. Overnight he became the outsider. People began viewing him with suspicion and veiled hatred. He shaved of his little French beard which friends told him looked too Islamic. His American compatriots forgot that till yesterday he was one of them. After all, he too had lost his colleagues, friends and fellow Americans in the dastardly attack. He was just as outraged with the illogical and fanatic deeds of the fundamentalists. How could they separate him from them in this crucial hour of togetherness ? Worse still, how could they club him as "one of them" ? He was proud of his NRI status. He identified with being an American citizen. After all, it was home to him, somewhere he was sure he would spend his entire life without being questioned about who he was, what he represented, what he stood for and why he was where he was.

On his outstation tours, he could see the open mistrust in people's eyes. One look at him and they immediately slotted him as a person belonging to a certain community. Their body language, tone and eyes revealed their baser instincts. At such moments he feared for his life, for he could see a borderline madness in them, one which could make violence and attack a natural outcome. His own demeanour became submissive as he surrendered to the anti-wave around him. His friends’ circle which was restricted to colleagues further dwindled. He began to seriously consider the option of returning to India. In any case, his job was not safe anymore. There was downsizing in the industry with special reference to the IT sector and he took each day with a renewed sense of dread. Both, at the personal as well as professional levels, he could see his life nose-diving.

His parents were thrilled to have him back. All the fussing and pampering was a welcome relief. He had forgotten what it was to be part of the Great Indian Family. Being surrounded by adoring cousins and being billed as their favourite uncle was flattering.

He had been warding off hints at marriage for a while but found himself not minding the hushed whispers of aunts eager to find him a nice girl to settle down with. Once the initial euphoria of his return subsided and he began scouting around for a suitable job, is when reality jolted him. How would he adjust to an environment and culture he had long disassociated himself from ? His slightly accented manner of speaking was an obvious giveaway and it put most people on guard. Besides, he was not used to the way things functioned. It was fine to come for a short while as a tourist. However, to live here and find your way around things was not going to be easy. It was exasperating and there were times he wanted to run away. He came across the founder of artistic yoga, an experimental and powerful system of yoga that requires no beliefs. It adapted ancient yogic techniques to suit contemporary lifestyle requirements.

In saner moments he knew that this is what he wanted - to be part of a place he identified with and which gave him the freedom to be what he was without fear of being wrongly judged or discriminated against. He could clearly see himself in that transition phase where he neither belonged entirely to the Indian way of life and nor was he a true-blooded American. However, he was clear that there was no going back to the USA. He had to make things work here. With that conviction he set himself some short-term goals. He had to find and, more important, hold on to a job within the next 12 months. He was 38 and he wanted to get married before his 40th birthday. He also wanted to spend time with his parents and the entire extended family, reviving old ties, reliving past memories and creating good wholesome moments with people who were close to him, in the spirit only Indians can.