Prologue
Most
people living in America today have a story to tell about their heritage,
because primarily, this is a nation of immigrants. All of these stories are different, with
diverse experiences, both pleasant and not so pleasant.
My
name is Nand J. Singh. I consider myself an ordinary person. I am fifty-eight years old and I live with my
family in San Jose, California. One day, unexpectedly, I discovered some
shocking information about the life of my grandfather, who had been born in
India and then migrated to the United States.
The
information that I learned bothered me tremendously. I felt as if my
understanding of life in the United States had been totally shaken. I wanted to
regain my peace of mind. To achieve this goal, I embarked on a physical and
mental journey to determine whether the information I had learned was actually
true. This is the story of that journey.
My
grandfather started his life in the Americas in Vancouver, Canada. Sikh
immigrants from India, mainly from the State of Punjab, began leaving India for
other countries in the eighteenth century after the British rulers in India
took away their land and their freedom. Some of those immigrants ended up in
Canada and some in the United States.
The
struggle these immigrants faced and how they turned their pain into a
meaningful foundation for their success, creating a path for generations to
come without harboring any grudges or bad feelings for their host nations, is
inspirational. Their hard work, ingenuity, adaptation to different cultures,
and persistence have allowed them to establish a vibrant and growing community
for themselves and for the future generations in Canada and the United States.
They have proven that the body can be beaten, but not the mind.
UNBEATEN MIND
UNBEATEN MIND
“Remember,
remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are
descended
from immigrants and revolutionists.”
Franklin D. Roosevelt
Chapter 1
The
Southwest flight from San Jose to Seattle arrived almost on time. My name is Nand
Singh, and I am not a stranger to SeaTac airport. I have been to Seattle
several times in the past for job related matters and to attend the weddings of
friends.
I’ve
always had a special appreciation for this beautiful Pacific Northwest
city. It is for example the birthplace
of so many wonderful products that people like me enjoy every day. You could
even say I have almost a reverence for this wonderful area. The aircraft I came
on, a Boeing 737, was built not far from the very runway on which the flight
landed. Seattle and the Boeing Corporation have shared a long history. A few
years ago, I toured the huge Boeing factory in Everett, Washington with my wife
and children. Microsoft, probably one of
the reasons for my success in the technology (IT) field; Starbucks, my favorite
morning starter; Amazon, my family’s favorite online store; and I can’t forget
Costco, my wife’s favorite place to shop, all started in this great northwest
city of Seattle and its surrounding area. Looking outside, the sky is bright
and sunny. I wonder why people call Seattle “The Rainy City”; at least it’s not
raining today, anyway.
This
was my train of thought, as I waited for the shuttle bus to the building where
I would pick up my rental car. At SeaTac all rental car companies are located
outside the airport.
Although my flight landed in
Seattle, my main destination was about one hundred and sixty miles north of
Seattle, a city I have never visited before called Bellingham. However, before
I visited Bellingham, I needed to travel another thirty miles north of the
boarder to Vancouver, Canada. My grandfather began his life in immigration in
Vancouver, so I thought that it was only logical that I should start my
enquiries there.
Vancouver,
Canada is the closest big city to Bellingham, Washington. I visited Vancouver once for a social
function, so I knew few people in there. However, I did not intend to contact
them on this trip.
“Nand,”
is what most people call me. Some of my close friends like to call me “Nan” for
fun, especially when we are at an Indian restaurant…you know, because of the
famous roasted Indian flatbread! I know this much, my father named me Nand J.
Singh after his father whose name was Nand Johal Singh. He was the one who came
to the United States through Canada so many years ago.
The
shuttle bus stopped about ten yards from where I was standing and I began to
quickly read the many car rental company signs on the bus. Thankfully, I saw
the name of my company, so I got on for the short ride to the rental car
facility. Since I had made the booking in advance, it didn’t take very long to
get my vehicle. I picked up my Toyota
Camry, and following the directions I got form the agent at the rental car
counter, I was shortly driving north on Highway I-5.
This
trip was neither business nor social, but most definitely had some very personal
and emotional components to it. I believe it’s an undeniable fact that there
are times, when some sudden events can change a person’s routine activities and
general outlook on life altogether.
I consider myself a low-key, rather shy guy
and do not engage in activities that are strange to me. You could say I don’t
look for excitement. Well, so much for that! Here I am on the road to places
not very familiar to me and I am going to be willing to talk to strangers.
As
I was driving on I-5 North, I could see the bright rays of sun light reflecting
from snow-covered Mt. Rainier, one of the landmarks of the Pacific Northwest.
Seeing those tall pine and fir trees is always soothing. Even in the
summertime, this area is cool enough that there is no need to turn on the air
conditioner in the car. The traffic was somewhat heavy but not as bad as in San
Jose. I passed the Boeing field on the left side with so many aircraft of
different shapes and colors. I travel a lot by air for business reasons, yet I
never cease to be fascinated by different types of airplanes.
Having
said all this, let me tell you, where this all began. Ten days ago, I was on a
trip to India for work-related reasons. As an IT consultant with my company, I
often travel to India to see clients. On most of my trips, the city Poona
(Pune) is my destination because our partner company’s office is there. Usually
my journeys are anywhere from seven to ten days in length. Very seldom do I go
to any place in India other than Poona during my stay. I don’t consider myself
as a vacation freak and don’t go in for sightseeing and shopping.
By
sheer coincidence, I had been invited to a wedding in the state of Punjab,
India, while I was on my last business trip there. I knew that in Punjab I
still had second and third cousins from both my father’s and mother’s sides,
but I had never met most of them. I have
only had contact with one distant cousin, Sarala, my grandfather’s sister’s granddaughter.
She lives in a small city in Punjab and we are almost the same age. She visited
us in California once a few years back. When my father was alive, he had some
contact with Sarala’s mother, his first cousin. However, my father never told
me very much about his cousins or their children in Punjab.
I
want to tell you how I got to know Cousin Sarala. Some time ago, as I was
sorting through papers left to me when my father passed away, I found an old
wedding invitation. This invitation had been sent by Sarala’s parents to my
family, inviting us to Sarala’s wedding in Punjab. I don’t think my parents
went to that wedding, but my father kept the invitation. I still have it with
all the other old papers my father left me. From that invitation, I discovered
that I had this cousin in Punjab, India. I learned more details about Sarala
and her husband from the address on that invitation. When I took Megan, my
wife, to India several years ago, we contacted Sarala and visited her family.
That was the first and only time I traveled to Punjab.
One
of Sarala’s daughters lives in Calgary, Canada. Sarala and her husband, Ashwin
Singh, visited their daughter a few years ago and at the end of their stay,
upon my invitation, they made a trip to California and visited with us in San
Jose for a couple of days. Now, whenever
I travel to India, I call her just to say hello and to catch up.
On
this last trip to Poona (Pune), I called Sarala to say “hi” and to chat as
always. It was during this conversation that she told me about an upcoming
wedding in Punjab. The bride was the daughter of one of my distant cousins from
my father’s side. Our little conversation ended in few minutes and we exchanged
goodbyes.
Not
even an hour had passed after that conversation when I received a call from a
person by the name of Gopal Singh. He introduced himself as my second cousin
and explained how we were related. He said he was the father of the bride and spoke
about his daughter’s upcoming wedding, which was to take place in three days.
I
replied, “Congratulations! Yeah, that is very good!” I told him that I had just
heard about the wedding from Sarala.
Uncle
Gopal replied, “Acha. Acha,” (roughly translated from Hindi to English, this
means “Good, Good.” Even though people in Punjab speak in Punjabi; there are
many similarities between Punjabi and Hindi).
“Sarala
called me and told me that you are in India for work,” he said.
I replied, “That is
correct.” I thought the conversation would end at that, but to my surprise, Uncle Gopal invited me to his daughter’s wedding with an
apology for the short notice.
I admit I tried my best to avoid the invitation by giving as many
excuses as I could think of. He wouldn’t budge. I could hear children making
noise in the background at Uncle Gopal’s home. I heard him saying “beta cupa
raho,” which means “Children, be quite.”
When I am at work in
Poona, I have to deal with many different people on different occasions and
from those experiences, I know for a fact that most Indians will not take a
‘no’ for an answer. They will try their best to change your mind. Sometimes,
that can be irritating for people like me who have never lived in India for a
long period. Uncle Gopal was not any
different. He insisted that I must
attend the wedding.
He said,
“Brother Nand, I am your cousin. This will be a great opportunity for you to
meet many of your relatives! As you may
or may not know, your grandfather was a well-liked person when he lived in
Punjab.” When he finished that line about my grandfather, I felt a soft touch
on my shoulder by a kind hand from a mysterious person. I became speechless for
few moments. I realized that Uncle Gopal was right. I hadn’t met any of my
relatives from either of my parents’ sides, other than cousin Sarala. Moreover,
Uncle Gopal had such a sweet and poetic voice. How could anyone resist anything
he requested?
Without
further hesitation, I accepted the invitation. Uncle Gopal was so happy. He
even offered his help in arranging transportation from the airport and all
that. However, I respectfully told him that I would arrange all that myself. I
was confident that I could ask Cousin Sarala to pick me up at the airport.
After
thinking more about the conversation I had had with Gopal, I felt that he was
right and that the wedding would be a good occasion for me to see those distant
cousins for the first time, as well as to meet other relatives I have never
seen. I knew, I could finish the rest of my work in a day or so and then I
would have no problem going to the wedding. I would also be able to make the
changes in my travel plans to fly back from New Delhi to San Francisco.
When
I had left California for this trip, I certainly had had no idea that an event
like this would come up while I was in India! Now I needed to get some clothes
to wear for the wedding and a gift for the bride. I had only brought casual
clothes for my work. I decided to consult with Megan about what kind of gift I
should buy. She would know that better than I would.
Indian
weddings are not simple. They are extremely elaborate and can sometimes last for
more than one day. I knew this from my coworkers in India. Although this would
only be my second time in Punjab, I knew from my father and mother that my
roots could be traced to Punjab. For the first time, I felt some attachment to
something other than my wife and children. First it was Sarala and her family
and now Uncle Gopal. My hesitation to attend the wedding was now becoming
pleasant anticipation.
From my parents I learned that my grandfather had
come to America a long time ago. Although my parents were married in Punjab, my
father was not a frequent traveler to India. He had very little interest in
keeping extended family ties alive. As far as I know, the only time he traveled
to India with mother after their wedding was when I was a freshman at Cal Tech.
He never talked about his cousins or uncles in India when he got back from that
trip.
My father was born and raised in California.
He was busy with his business and taking care of us. As I was growing up, I did not think about my
relatives in India either. At that time I thought my world consisted of my
parents, my friends, and all the stuff I had in my room. Moreover, my father
knew very little spoken Punjabi. The little he knew was taught to him by his
father and my mom. He was not able to read or write in Punjabi. However, even
though he knew very little, my father was able to use Punjabi language better
than I could. On a couple of occasions I had heard him talking to other Sikhs
using a combination of Panjabi with English very effectively. I remember
giggling when my father used to talk to Mom in Punjabi in public places or if
he wanted to make some comment that others would not understand.
It
was only when Sarala visited us in California that I became aware of my
grandfather’s family history in Punjab in some detail. She told me that my
grandfather had had two brothers. They were both dead, but their grandchildren
were still alive in Punjab, as well as in other places around the world. No one
from my father’s generation was still alive in India, other than cousins and
their children.
I
finished my work the next day and booked a flight to Chandigarh, Punjab, the
closest big city to where Sarala lives. After making the travel arrangements, I
called Cousin Sarala and told her that I would be coming for the wedding. She
was very happy to hear that, and before I could even ask for her help, she
offered to pick me up at the airport and to help with whatever I else might
need during my stay in Punjab.
That
was a big relief for me and I accepted her offer with gratitude. Sarala’s home in Kharar city is very close to
Chandigarh, the major airport in Punjab. Sarala and her husband have a modest
home with plenty of space. All of their children were grown and employed
outside of Punjab. I mentioned before that one of their daughters lives in
Calgary Canada with her family. For me
to stay with them for a couple of days would not be a problem for them.
My
flight to Chandigarh landed ten minutes late. Sarala’s husband, Ashwin, came to
the airport to pick me up. He was waiting outside when I came out of the
terminal. Ashwin greeted me with a handshake and a hug. He offered to carry my
small brief case to the car but I refused the offer politely.
On
the way to their home in their Hyundai sedan, he talked about all the big
changes that were taking place in the city and in Punjab. I could see a lot of
construction going on everywhere, many cars, and all other types of vehicles on
the street as well. I tried to recall some of the memories of when I had
visited Kharar with Megan a few years back. All that I could remember were some
shopping places. Megan wanted to buy couple of churidars (a very common two- or
three-piece dress for women in India) which she had fallen in love with. Sarala
had taken us to a store to buy churidars. I wondered if I could recognize the
area where we went to shop. I asked Ashwin about that shop and he replied that
was in another part of the town.
Watching the way people were driving I
commented to Ashwin, “I don’t think I will never be able to drive here”.
Ashwin laughed and replied, “Yes, I know that
you in America have nice roads and people follow traffic rules. Here we have
rules, but we also make up our own rules”.
I
simply laughed. When I rolled down the window I could smell gasoline mixed with
dust. I felt sorry for those people living in this polluted air.
There
were many auto rickshaws on the road. This three-wheel vehicle is most commonly
used in Indian cities for short distance transportation. I watched with
fascination how these vehicles navigated between other vehicles and
pedestrians. Motor bikes and scooters are running all over like ants. There is
no need for a road for them. More than two people were riding on some of these
bikes. In India a horn on a vehicle is more important than brakes, I
think. I was amazed that under these
chaotic driving conditions that one does not see many accidents. I commented.
“Ashwin, I call this organized chaos on the road”. I don’t know if he got the
joke.
When
we got out of all the heavy traffic from the airport and onto a less busy road
going to the small city of Kharar where Ashwin and Sarala live, Ashwin became
more relaxed and talkative. He started to talk about the wedding. He gave me
more details and informed me of the time we needed to get to the wedding hall
the next day.
I
had never attended a wedding in India before. I was both curious and happy
about attending this one, especially since I felt that I had a connection, a
relationship knowingly or unknowingly, to the bride after Uncle Gopal had
called me and invited me to the wedding.
Ashwin
explained that Sikh weddings can normally go from two days to a week or more,
based on how wealthy the family is. This wedding was a two-day event and the
following day was the major and the final day. He told me the reason for why
this wedding was so short.
“See, both the bride and bridegroom work and
they couldn’t get too many days off from work for this function”.
Ashwin gave one more reason for the short
wedding. “You see, Nand, nowadays everyone is so busy that they don’t have time
to attend such long events.”
He
also wanted to add some historical background, saying, “You know, in the olden
days most people worked on farms or in government offices. Taking time off from
work for a week or longer was not a major problem back then”
He
told me that the first part of the wedding had already started the very day I
had arrived in Punjab. Tomorrow would be the day for the main event, which
included the religious and ritual ceremonies, and, of course, the big after
party afterwards.
By
the time we arrived at their home, Sarala was waiting for us. After greetings
all around, we made some small talk about my flight and work. Then she inquired
about how my wife and children were doing. While she was talking, she led me to
the room where I would be staying. Once we got into the room Sarala said,
“Nand, you must be hungry! If you want to freshen up, go ahead and then we will
eat!”
It
seemed as if she had said all of that in one breath, and just as quickly she
walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Sarala has some leadership
qualities that I sensed in her speech and all her other actions that I find
admirable. I looked around the room and
realized that this was the same room I stayed in when Megan and I had visited
them.
After a quick shower, I
came out to the living room. I saw that the dining room, next to the living
room, was being made ready for the evening meal. Sarala was walking in and out
of the kitchen with dishes. At the same time, Ashwin was helping, by placing
plates and water glasses on the table.
Upon seeing that I had
come out of my room, Sarala asked, “How has the food been for you these last few
days in Poona”
I replied, “You know,
Sarala, I had no choice other than to eat in restaurants”
Then Sarala announced,
“The food is ready! Let’s eat before everything gets cold” Cousin Sarala
sometimes acts as if she is my elder sister in both her speech and manners, and
I like that.
We sat around at the
dining table for the meal. As I smelled the aroma of the chicken curry, my
mouth watered, and then the smells from those nan... I hadn’t had a home-cooked
meal for quite a long time. I thanked Sarala and Ashwin for their generous
hospitality before starting to eat. They both responded at same time by saying
“No problem, Nand. We enjoy your company”.
After
the meal, Ashwin and I went back into the living room and sat around talking
for a while. After Sarala finished up in the kitchen for the day, she joined us
in the living room. We talked about their daughter and family in Canada and
about my family in America. The time
flew by. Suddenly Ashwin jumped up from his seat and said, “Hey guys, we have a
big day tomorrow! It’s getting late. We had better get some sleep since we need
to get up early.”
I
agreed by saying, “That’s right, Ashwin. I need to make a couple of calls
before heading to bed any way.”
We all stood up and went to our rooms after
wishing one another a good night.
