Coming to America
The Why
At the outset
let me make it very clear I came here to the US because I had to, not because I
wanted to. I, personally, never dreamt of or idealized the west. I never wanted
to “settle down” in US of A. I wanted to travel, mainly to Europe but always
pictured myself settling in my own country in some upscale apartment with a steady
job and a steadier stream of servants. None of that actually came to
fruition.
After working
for a non-government organization for 4 years I married my best friend from
high school. His company posted him to the US and I promptly quit my job and
followed him here. It certainly was not what I envisioned for my future. We
lived in New Jersey, in a not so affluent area for the first few months. I was
aghast – “Is this the America people dream of coming to?”
I still
remember the first day I landed here in the US....
The automatic
airport doors opened only to drape me in the cold biting air. It had snowed
only a week ago and the temperature was 30 below normal. But I was meeting my
husband after spending two whole months with my in-laws. So, the stinging cold
changed to warmth the moment we met. Well, actually the warmth I realized came
from the car’s heating system, which, to my surprise, can be left running for
as long as one wants to keep the passengers warm. Conserving energy? What is
that all about? This is America.
The weird transformation
Having studied in an English medium school and going on to
acquire a masters degree in English from a respected university in India, one
would think I’d have no problems assimilating into the American society. Wrong!
The moment I was expected to independently do even the tiniest of things – I froze! No really, I could not
even speak to the clerk at the grocery store. I suddenly transformed into Ashima
Ganguli, of The Namesake - a young bride about to deliver her first child in a
hospital in Massachusetts who struggles with language. That was the 60's when
the Indian woman was not as educated and not as exposed to the outside world. “Oh
my god”, I thought, “This is not me”. Where is the confident, calm and
collected Lopamudra. But somehow, the moment I landed in this foreign land, I
seemed get magically transformed into Ms Sridevi in English Vinglish who cannot order a simple coffee in New York. I
could not understand what anyone said. I was ashamed to say, “Excuse me”. I
would blankly stare at people’s faces assuming they would repeat themselves.
Well, they did not. Not only did they not repeat themselves, they glared at me
as though I was the scum of the earth. You can guess what that did to my
already low confidence level. I was so terrified that for the first few months
I refused to talk to anyone, anywhere! As time went by, things got worse.
Driving disaster
Very few of us
realize how important it is, to be able to drive in the US (unless you are
living in downtown NY or Chicago...which most of us cannot afford to live in
when we land here). The less said about the public transportation in the
US, the better. But if you are a dependent and are trying to get a license – WATCHOUT!! The whole process can
be harrowing. There are rules which make no sense whatsoever and most
importantly, they are changing everyday. So, you go prepared to the DMV with
one set of documents, but are asked for another set. Sometimes, you wish DMV
folks were corrupt like they are back home. At least there is a way out of this
quagmire we call driver’s license.
The paper test
was a cake walk (most of us have grown up cramming for exams, remembering
a few rules is nothing). The actual driving test, well, that is a different
story altogether. I had heard horror stories about people failing the driving
test 4-5 times before being able to clear it. FAIL?!?! That taboo word in
an Indians dictionary...NOT ME! I was scared (to say the least).
I was pretty
confident I could drive here. I was told it was like playing video game. No
clutch and no gears to worry about. Just use the accelerator to zoom forward
and brake to slow down.
The first day
of my driving lesson. Fully confident I walk towards the second hand Honda
Civic where the husband waits patiently. I sit in the drivers seat. I look down
at the controls and am aghast. The car has gears and a clutch. I look at my
husband. He is totally oblivious to my fears. “The clutch is a little
problematic. You’ll have to release it smoothly”, these are the first words
that come out of his mouth. I’m thinking “there wasn’t even supposed to be a
clutch…are you kidding me’? The driving lesson is a total disaster. Shifting
gears is just not my thing. I give up on the first day.
And then God
smiles at me. I meet with a driving instructor who not only has an automatic car;
he even speaks my language – Bangla! I will never forget that little man and
his pan stained lip (yes, he constantly chewed on betel leaves). It is because
of him I can actually go from one place to the other today. He not only teaches
me how to drive, I pass the driving test with flying colors. The examiner even
compliments me on my parallel parking. Kudos!!
Things change
– slowly but steadily. But the one thing I realize is that the confident,
friendly and fun loving Lopamudra is gone forever. In her place emerges a self-doubting
woman who is apprehensive about everything. Oh no! You don’t have to feel bad
for me. I am happy the way I am. I have become more introspective which has
lead to more thinking and more realization.
On a lighter
note. I do blame this country for getting rid of the confident happy go lucky
girl. This country confused me from the moment I set foot here. Everything was
opposite of what I knew to be the norm. Driving on
the opposite side of the road; keys going upside down in keyholes; light
switches, switching on in the opposite direction. Then there are the words -not
lift but elevator, football is soccer, footpath is sidewalk and normal is
regular. No wonder my brain froze!
But after
living here for almost 12 years, this has become home. We had our child here,
bought our first home here, made friends here who’ve now become like family. Life
has come a full circle. Now when I go to India, I am scared to even cross the
street. I’m sure God is laughing up there saying, “Take that”!
Coming to America
The first few years of adjusting in the US were traumatic, to
say the least. Thinking back, I laugh…but at the time it was certainly not
funny…read on to find out what I went through. Some of you who have come here
in the recent past might identify with my situation…
The Why
At the outset
let me make it very clear I came here to the US because I had to, not because I
wanted to. I, personally, never dreamt of or idealized the west. I never wanted
to “settle down” in US of A. I wanted to travel, mainly to Europe but always
pictured myself settling in my own country in some upscale apartment with a steady
job and a steadier stream of servants. None of that actually came to
fruition.
After working
for a non-government organization for 4 years I married my best friend from
high school. His company posted him to the US and I promptly quit my job and
followed him here. It certainly was not what I envisioned for my future. We
lived in New Jersey, in a not so affluent area for the first few months. I was
aghast – “Is this the America people dream of coming to?”
I still
remember the first day I landed here in the US....
The automatic
airport doors opened only to drape me in the cold biting air. It had snowed
only a week ago and the temperature was 30 below normal. But I was meeting my
husband after spending two whole months with my in-laws. So, the stinging cold
changed to warmth the moment we met. Well, actually the warmth I realized came
from the car’s heating system, which, to my surprise, can be left running for
as long as one wants to keep the passengers warm. Conserving energy? What is
that all about? This is America.
The weird transformation
Having studied in an English medium school and going on to
acquire a masters degree in English from a respected university in India, one
would think I’d have no problems assimilating into the American society. Wrong!
The moment I was expected to independently do even the tiniest of things – I froze! No really, I could not
even speak to the clerk at the grocery store. I suddenly transformed into Ashima
Ganguli, of The Namesake - a young bride about to deliver her first child in a
hospital in Massachusetts who struggles with language. That was the 60's when
the Indian woman was not as educated and not as exposed to the outside world. “Oh
my god”, I thought, “This is not me”. Where is the confident, calm and
collected Lopamudra. But somehow, the moment I landed in this foreign land, I
seemed get magically transformed into Ms Sridevi in English Vinglish who cannot order a simple coffee in New York. I
could not understand what anyone said. I was ashamed to say, “Excuse me”. I
would blankly stare at people’s faces assuming they would repeat themselves.
Well, they did not. Not only did they not repeat themselves, they glared at me
as though I was the scum of the earth. You can guess what that did to my
already low confidence level. I was so terrified that for the first few months
I refused to talk to anyone, anywhere! As time went by, things got worse.
Driving disaster
Very few of us
realize how important it is, to be able to drive in the US (unless you are
living in downtown NY or Chicago...which most of us cannot afford to live in
when we land here). The less said about the public transportation in the
US, the better. But if you are a dependent and are trying to get a license – WATCHOUT!! The whole process can
be harrowing. There are rules which make no sense whatsoever and most
importantly, they are changing everyday. So, you go prepared to the DMV with
one set of documents, but are asked for another set. Sometimes, you wish DMV
folks were corrupt like they are back home. At least there is a way out of this
quagmire we call driver’s license.
The paper test
was a cake walk (most of us have grown up cramming for exams, remembering
a few rules is nothing). The actual driving test, well, that is a different
story altogether. I had heard horror stories about people failing the driving
test 4-5 times before being able to clear it. FAIL?!?! That taboo word in
an Indians dictionary...NOT ME! I was scared (to say the least).
I was pretty
confident I could drive here. I was told it was like playing video game. No
clutch and no gears to worry about. Just use the accelerator to zoom forward
and brake to slow down.
The first day
of my driving lesson. Fully confident I walk towards the second hand Honda
Civic where the husband waits patiently. I sit in the drivers seat. I look down
at the controls and am aghast. The car has gears and a clutch. I look at my
husband. He is totally oblivious to my fears. “The clutch is a little
problematic. You’ll have to release it smoothly”, these are the first words
that come out of his mouth. I’m thinking “there wasn’t even supposed to be a
clutch…are you kidding me’? The driving lesson is a total disaster. Shifting
gears is just not my thing. I give up on the first day.
And then God
smiles at me. I meet with a driving instructor who not only has an automatic car;
he even speaks my language – Bangla! I will never forget that little man and
his pan stained lip (yes, he constantly chewed on betel leaves). It is because
of him I can actually go from one place to the other today. He not only teaches
me how to drive, I pass the driving test with flying colors. The examiner even
compliments me on my parallel parking. Kudos!!
Things change
– slowly but steadily. But the one thing I realize is that the confident,
friendly and fun loving Lopamudra is gone forever. In her place emerges a self-doubting
woman who is apprehensive about everything. Oh no! You don’t have to feel bad
for me. I am happy the way I am. I have become more introspective which has
lead to more thinking and more realization.
On a lighter
note. I do blame this country for getting rid of the confident happy go lucky
girl. This country confused me from the moment I set foot here. Everything was
opposite of what I knew to be the norm. Driving on
the opposite side of the road; keys going upside down in keyholes; light
switches, switching on in the opposite direction. Then there are the words -not
lift but elevator, football is soccer, footpath is sidewalk and normal is
regular. No wonder my brain froze!
But after
living here for almost 12 years, this has become home. We had our child here,
bought our first home here, made friends here who’ve now become like family. Life
has come a full circle. Now when I go to India, I am scared to even cross the
street. I’m sure God is laughing up there saying, “Take that”!
