Foreign students and evil west...

GA Tech, 1990

It was drizzling when I come out of the Civil Engineering building that night. Since lots of assignment due the next day, I had stayed back to finish them not realizing it was well past mid night...

As I came out of the the college building, the first thing I noticed was rain, and a lonely pick up truck which was passing by on the street. To beat the cold weather I decided to run home. I had barely taken a few steps that I had a mighty fall due to the slippery surface.

It was embarrassing even that late at night, so I looked up to see if the driver of the truck saw me fall. Well, he or she did. The truck had come to a complete halt.

I got up slowly, picked up my books and other stuffs and started to walk. I glanced at the truck one more time. It was still not moving. It is only when I had taken a few confident steps that the truck started to move again....

Later, I realized what really transpired.

The truck driver saw me fall and take a hit. He or she decided to wait on me to see if I needed any help. When I got up and took some steps, the driver realized that am ok and started to move again.

Its been 25 years, and dont know who the driver of that pick up truck was. I dont even know it was a male or a female, and old man or a young dude my age. The only thing I know is that he or she was a human enough to care about well being of a foreign student in his or her country.

This is how "evil west" treats its students....

The link below shows how we take care of them!

Of course, we are the best!!

http://www.mid-day.com/articles/shocking-mob-strips-parades-tanzanian-woman-as-cops-watch-in-bangalore/16923169

Ishq Mahal Ki Shehzaadi...

Be Wafa Thi, Ya Kahen Use Zaalim

Par Sath Wohi To Deti Hai

Mere Sapno Ke Ishq Mahal Main

Ek Shehzaadi Jo Rehti Hai

Jab Waqt, Waqt Pe Ghar Nahi Aata

Aur Raat Ko Deri Hoti Hai

Bahar Sadkon Pe Door Talak Jab

Sunsaan Duphari Hoti Hai

Waise To Hai Himmat Us Main

Par Be-Taab To Thodi Hoti Hai

Mere Sapno Ke Ishq Mahal Main

Ek Shehzaadi Jo Rehti Hai

Jab Chaand Ufaq Par Aataa Hai

Aur Raat Ki Baarish Hoti Hai

Methe Lafzon Main Haule Se

Baad E Saba Kuch Kehti Hai

Aur Ghar Ki Chatt Pe Pade Pade

Har Raat Basar Yu Hoti Hai

Jab Din Naukri Pe Chala Jata Hai

Tab Der Talak Woh Soti Hai

Mere Sapno Ke Ishq Mahal Main

Ek Shehzaadi Jo Rehti Hai

Phir Hijr Ka Mausam Aata Hai

Tab Kon Sath Nibhata Hai?

Qismat Ka Likha Ho Jataa Hai

Kehne Ko To Duniya Kehti Hai

Tab Saari Yaaden Samet Kar Woh

Ek Naye Safar Ko Hoti Hai

Par Jaate Waqt, Palat Kar Woh

Aakhri Baar Kuch Sochti Hai

"Saath Hamara Bas Itna Tha"

Ye Kehti Hai aur Roti Hai

Mere Sapno Ke Ishq Mahal Main

Ek Shehzaadi Jo Rehti Hai

(C) Shahid Parvez Sayed, Sept 3rd, 2015

Autumn, 1992, Atlanta

I have booked my flight to India. I am going home. I am happy - yet apprehensive.

I feel like a warrior who faced insurmountable challenges, but remained steadfast in his determination to achieve his goal. A warrior who did not indulge in any act that he can’t share with his family n frnds. A warrior who sacrificed budding romances because he knew he will eventually return and did not want to get tied down to a country for wrong reasons. I have seen many in the US that came for education, but lost the sight of that goal and drifted in wine and women never to return….

I am keeping date with my destiny. India is my Karma Bhoomi as I had decided long time back. It’s time to walk the talk.

The night before my departure Dona invites me for the last super at the same restaurant we have been frequenting all these years. She tells me “ Whenever you return Shahid, it will be the same here”. (And she will keep her words, as I will see her again in 1999 and will realize nothing …not even the smell of her house has changed”. She is an angel….

After the dinner, I wanted to say good-bye to my frnd Ted Schelling. Dona drives me to his home. It is pre-mobile days, so I call Ted from pay phone at the lobby of the restaurant and take directions to his place. I write that address on a piece of paper I find in the restaurant lobby. We meet him and his family. Dona drops me back late at night. SK in the meantime has done all my packing on my behalf. Frndship it is…

Years later Dona gives me that piece of paper in which I had written the directions to Ted’s home. Apparently, I might have dropped that worthless piece of paper in Dona’s car after reaching Ted’s home. Dona must have found it while cleaning her car the next weekend. It was junk, yet she did not junk it. (The only other people who would not throw anything with my handwriting are my mom and my last in-house girl frnd). Blessings they are...or were...oh wait...

I am at the airport. All teared up. I have never worked in India and don’t know what awaits me in work scenario. I have some relations that needed to be entangled from the web of miscommunication… life is not going to be easy …not this fast.

Good byes are always tough for me. In my chilhood Maa had left me with my relatives after admitting me in class 1st at Chor Bazar Muncipal Urdu School. I had experienced the cutting away of my heart in two pieces at the age of five…. So its psychologicaly painful for me to say good-bye. (Mom still cries when I mention that morning when she left me to fend for myself…. off course I am glad she did. Else I wud not have gotten education in that badlands of U.P.)

When Steve says “ This is it man!”… I cry like a kid. I did not realize till then my little world has already taken roots in the soil of America. I had beautiful caring frnds that took care of me like a family. My roots had grown in that soil unknowingly…and am uprooting it. When I was falling in love, actually I was not just falling in love with A or FDR but the system…the culture…the air.

But, my world awaits me in India. There is no turning back now.

It’s a chilly autumn morning as my flights takes off from Hartsfield International airport. I look down from the window at the world I am leaving behind. I hear:

“ India is a dumpster…don’t go there”

“I love you. How do want me to meet you knowing that in a few months you will go back and I will never ever see you again?”

“I never thought I would fall in love with someone from overseas…. I love you with all my heart Shahid”

“You took a big leap from a municipal school to Georgia Tech, why undo it all? Don’t go back.”

"Ye Aasmano main kiya talash karta hai? Chal Cheetah 3 main tujhe Taare dikhataa hoon!!"

“This is home Shahid, this is home…there is no India for me now!”

Autumn, Mumbai, India

I reach Mumbai at 7pm.

And India refuses to recognize me immediately.

It’s a shocker I was not prepared for. Never thought about it. Have I changed? What part of me has been changed by America? I never picked up anything that did not meet my sensibility criteria then how come I am not recognizable now? I had frnds who never encouraged me to be anything but myself...I did not even pick up the damn accent?

I am confused. I am angry!

A story of a Hen and her chicks comes to mind.

A hen had 9 chicks. She used to hang out with them. Take care of them. Feed them. Protect them. One day the 9th chick fell into a drain full of colors. When he came out he went back to join the rest of his brothers. But they all refused to recognize him. They were seeing him in different color, while he was not aware of any colors on him.

The hen throws him out of the family. You are not one of us ..

Its been a while I read that story. I don’t remember how the story ended for that chick.

Just like I don’t know how this one is going to end!

Love, Dona!

July 2014, 6:30am, Small-town, USA.

A white Audi driven by a woman in her 40s going way below the speed limit on a State highway The woman, Vice President of finance company has slowed down her car because she is having trouble seeing the road. The reason why she cant see the road is because she is crying...the reasons she is crying is because radio in her car radio just played a song called 'Red' by Taylor Swift.

"Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street
Faster than the wind, passionate as sin ending so suddenly

Losing him was blue like I'd never known
Missing him was dark grey all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met
But loving him was red
Loving him was red!"

The night before she had a surprise from a long lost friend. They re-connected after 25 years. They shared the gifts and ironies that life brought to them since that fateful night when Atlanta played Minnesota for the World Series in 1991.

She stops by the shoulder of the road, takes her contact lenses off and cries heart out. 

Winter 1991, GA Tech, Graduation Day

I am standing with other students in the University Stadium for the commencement ceremony.  My friends Dona, SK, Ted, Steve, Gortitude all are in the audience taking pictures. Speeches are being made as my mind is racing in all directions. It’s a flashback time. The images from past three years of struggles to get to this very moment are flickering one after the others.  My heart is in turmoil but am smiling like all my classmates standing along with me. The one person I am missing most at this time is my father.

I think a father -son relation is the most complex of them all. Complex, coz here is a man you want to be your idol, yet you be your own man. Even though you want to be a lieutenant, or a vice captain in his team, yet you feel immense urge to lead just one time. You respect him but you want your father to go "wow" just once for you.  I know a graduation ceremony is not a wow going moment, but it does not hurt to see what he is thinking of this act.

"Shahid Parvez Sayed, Masters, School of Civil Engineering", comes the announcement as I walk to receive my degree from President Dr. Crecine.  Later during the reception I go and meet Dr. Crecine again and apologize to him for causing him trouble on the championship game day in 1989. He smiles and says " Not a problem. I am glad you called. Its so good to see you graduate today despite all the hardships your endured".  

Winter 1991, Poona Restaurant, Duluth

SK has given a party to celebrate my graduation at this Indian restaurant in Duluth. We are having fun. SK is a great talker and is keeping all in splits.  We are sitting by a table next to the window. I am feeling confident about my future, as getting Masters from GA Tech is a big deal. Not many successfully graduate from there.  

The only problem is that I do not know that the future will take me back to the same table of Poona restaurant in 1998. I will be wearing a white shirt, black bow tie and serving food and water to the guests. One day Ahsan Rashid wud walk in the restaurant (Ahsan had played a role in the play I had written), upon seeing me as a waiter he is shocked.

I take glasses of water for him. He gets up and hugs me, then introduces me to his family and kids.

Later that night when I wud call India.

"Main Haar Gyaa. I am coming back" - I have tears in my eyes as I narrate the Ahsan Rashid incident to my official girl frnd whom I have left in India. 

" Aap to Ameer e Qfila hain. Aap Kaise Haar Sakte Hain? I am with you. We will get thru this." - She tries to lift my morale up.

Lets save that story for some other day!

July 2014, Small-town, USA

The white woman in the Audi is still crying.  What is she crying for? She has everything that people dream for - a big house, kids, and great job - everything. She worked hard and faced all the challenges that life threw at her. She is an independent minded strong woman - still she is crying like a baby?

Tears that coming our of her eyes are drowning the words like Kaafir, Gentile, Non gentile, Malacchi, Dalit, black, white, brown, Americans, Indians, Shia, Sunni, 24, 26 and all other labels that bigots use to discriminate against other humans and to keep the world divided.

Taylor Swift still singing…

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes
Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go
But moving on from him is impossible
When I still see it all in my head
Burning red
Burning it was red”

Love, Dona!

Winter 1989, Grady Memorial Hospital,

The cops drive me straight to Grady and get me admitted in a psychiatric ward where they keep me “under observation”. 

“Yahan Kaise Aaya?”

SK a new entrant to my life has come to see me at Grady Hospital.  I explain to him the events leading up to here.  I tell him not to tell anyone else that I am here. I am ok.

After taking my leave, I see SK talking with the nurses. As soon as he leaves, the ambulance drives me to a ground floor building on the outskirts of the city. Later SK informs me that he told nurses that I am talking about jumping from the building.

Why you lied? I ask him.

“Now they wont be able to deport you! “He explains.

This new hospital is full of seriously disturbed people I think I am the only sane person in this wards, OR was I? I fear for my life now. One of these “disturbing “ looking guy is going to strangle me tonight – I think…. I have stopped sleeping at night…I only sleep during daytime. ( Grady sends me a bill of $313 which becomes $13,000 later with interest. I pay $5000 in 2001to get them off my back. This is capitalism at its best!)

Steve comes to pick me up. He is my best frnd and a student at Georgia Tech.

“I am sorry you have to go thru this man.” He takes me on a long drive. He cracks jokes to make me laugh. It’s a great sight to see a friend trying to lift you up… Friendship is the best medicine in this World…it cures many ills. Years later, in 2007 Jeff Shipman would do that in my life…but that story some other time.

Winter 1989, LaGrange, GA

I meet “A” at a party that Steve invited me to. She is good looking and is fun to be with.  Even though she comes from a rural Dixie background, her ability to see beyond is fascinating. For her, I am a perfect candidate for settling down in life. I am working on my Masters at Georgia Tech and have a bright career ahead.

For me – I am in the middle of a war. Everything else will have to wait.

Winter 1989, Francis 14^th Condos

My deportation is on hold. The Judge has given me an extension to stay and finish my degree.

SK and I have moved in to fancy condos on 14^th street. I am back to focusing on my studies. He has great sense of humor. He paints. He speaks without an accent. He prays. He cooks great food. He has class and is flamboyant.  He organizes little get together in which I recite my stories and ghazals. He is yaron ka yaaar types.

The only time I have issues with SK is when his girl friend Anita comes to see him and they spend time closeted in his bedroom.

But other than that, no complaints!

Spring 1990, Virginia Highlands

Dona introduces me to Shakespeare, Mozart and Bach. Music always keeps playing in her house, even in her absence. As soon as you enter her house you are greeted by symphony no 9 of Beethoven of Mozart or Atlanta Symphony Orchestra playing Bernstein’s. She is a fan of Jimmy Carter and is a member of Jimmy Carter Center of Peace and many other such organizations.

My horizons are expanding. I used to think Ghalib, Sahir and Harivansh Rai to to be the ultimate of literature and art, now new names populating my head.  

Spring 1990, GA Tech

For some weeks now, I ma having this light headache and a feeling of nausea 24x7. I have trouble walking straight. SK says it is nothing; it is just in “my head!” Dona takes me more seriously and sends me to her neurologist frnd for a brain check up. All is well there. But the condition persists.

One day I am lying on my bed thinking about my life script.  The script that I wrote for myself was different than what I am living. My script had a 2 years stay and a degree from America. India is my Karma Bhumi. Who wrote these scenes and why? And now am pulled in different directions.  On one hand I have this great country with unlimited options and freedom to achieve any heights. On the other hand I have unanswered question and a vacuum.  On one hand I have this beautiful Blondie who wants to be my partner…. On the other hand….

Whenever SK finds me lying on my bed looking in the sky with some crappy sad Hindi song playing in the background, he would not leave me alone.

One day he comes home early and finds me in that state.

“Lets go shopping”

“Nahi jana”

We get down at Lindberg MARTA station.  As soon as we come out SK wants to go to the loo.

“Gas station main janaa”

“Nahi, they are dirty. Lets go to Cheetah 3” – SK pointing to a nude club right next to the station.

“Pagal hai. Nahi.”

“Yaar Ek minute lagegga. Tu mat janaa ..main foran aa jaoongaa”

“Nahi mujhe nahi janaa”

As soon as we reach Cheetah 3, SK buys two entrance tickets for 16 dollars.

“Arre, kiya kar raah hai?”

“Chalnaa Yaar, please, 16 dollar waste ho jayenge” SK pulls me by my hand with a mischievous smile.

Khuda Ki Panaha, is what came to my mind as soon as we enter the club. I have the poetry in my genes and we poets like things “hidden!”  We are more prone to fall for a pair of eyes or hands or hair but to see this brazen display of human body parts was too much to handle.  But I am supposed to be a man and running away at this time would amount to be being a sissy. I am a fighter and not a sissy…so I don’t run back to the door.

SK is enjoying the tamasha. He is stuffing 5-dollar bills in the stocking of these dancers. Stockings are all they are wearing. He gives me a bill too, but I refuse to stick it in her stockings. A dancer comes down the pole and approaches me for money. I am embarrassed. All eyes are following her. She gets closer. My heart stops. I feel a sudden 2000-degree heat next to me. I hand over the money as she goes away. The entire exercise takes 30 seconds or less, for me it felt longer. SK laughs at my discomfort. 

To keep myself busy I start noticing things and people. Till my eyes set on a Queen Rania or a look alike of Queen Rania, who is sitting with her frnds on the table next t ours. She smiles. I smile back. She looks khandaani. She too is like me – and does not belong here. I think.

I get distracted for a few minutes as SK whispers something in my ears.

“Who dekh, who abhi apne paas bathi thi na”

“OMG”

That was Queen Rania look like. She was coming on stage and removing whatever worldly possessions she had in front of the crowd.

I run out of the Club. SK follows.

“Dard Kaisa hai ab? Chakkar aa rahe hain?”

“Dard badh gyaa hai. Chakkr bhi. Ab kiya kareneg ye bol?”

We laugh.

PS:  A few years later, Cheetah 3 filed for bankruptcy. A church bought it. I read it that they kept the entire setup as is. They did not even remove the “poles”.

Even though Cheetah 3 changed hands from Godless people to God fearing ones, the “worship” still goes on – this time to a different God! 

Love, Dona!

Love, Dona!

I have picked out a name for you

What is it?

I will tell you when we meet.

Dona calls for once a month dinner meeting.  Looking back now, I realize what she was doing. By seeing me personally over the dinner every two or three weeks she was making sure I am doing fine and staying sane.

In the US, it is common for folks to pick up names. I had never thought of it but now that she brought this up, I was curious to see what name she thinks for me. 

Most of the times I carry flowers whenever I see her.  I have never ever seen anyone respect my flowers like she does.  She would take pictures of the flowers and send me showing how they are doing. Those flowers from Virginia Highlands flower shop used to last long, sometime weeks. To gift her flower was an occasion I used to Cherish.

After so many years of gifting flowers I have developed a theory. I can predict with reasonable accuracy the amount of time my relationship with someone is going to last, depending how he or she handles my flowers with in first 10 minutes of receiving it.

Example:  A few years back in Bhopal, I met two awesome ladies both belonging to same socioeconomic class. I took flowers with me to both of them. One did not care enough but the other sent me whatsapp picture of how my flowers are doing. One relation ended within a few days, the other is still going strong.

I had bought proper gift able flowers for the first lady, but for the second I cud not find a flower shop.  It was past 9 and only flower shop open was in the temple. The temple was closed so that shop was almost winding up for the day.

Temple flowers are normally yellow loose Marigold not fit for gifting as a bouquet.  I buy hose loose Marilgold for RS 75 and arrive at her home, where her entire family is shocked to see me carrying flowers in a newspaper.  I was prepared for this so I start with “ Devi Ko Chadane walen phool hain – Mandir Band Ho Gyaa Hai. Hum socha Us Devi Ko nahi Is Devi Pe chada Doon. Swaab Tab Bhi Mielgaa!!”

I have carried flowers to her many more times. Proper flowers. Expensive. Bouquet.  But she talks of those 75RS ones everytime she finds flowers in my hand and she says “ Un phoolon ki baat hi aur thi”.

See what I mean…

What is it? I ask Dona

The name that fits you and that I like is – Dona paused.

My anticipation peaked with names Mike, Sean, Chris doing the rounds of my field of imagination.

The name that I like and fits you like a tee is “Khush Guftaar!”

“What?”

And each letter in Khush Guftaar stands for something.

Where did u find this? This is Persian…

I had gone to the library.

This is how I lost my chance to be called “Sean” or “ Mike” or whatever. The bottom line is “ Khush Guftaar” is what I was, and what I have always will be.

Dona knew it.

Sad part is I do not remember now what each letter stood for in Kush Guftaar.

Life is good. I am elected as the new Senator from the School of Civil Engineering.  I represent my college in the Student Governing council. When the President of the Council asks me to take oath by putting my hand on my heart and repeating after him, I feel something.  Don’t know what to call feeling but the deepest desire and commitment to serve the students comes to mind.  But I am sure it was much deeper something words cant describe.

These days when I see India’s MPS and MLAs take oath, I look for familiar signs n feelings on their faces. Mostly I don’t see anything…

USA V/S Shahid Sayed

“You are herby requested to leave the country by 30^th and inform our office of the arrangements you made to depart, failing of which INS will deport you thereafter”

That was the notice from INS.

My World went into a spin again. But this time I am angry.

I am doing great academically. Why are they being unreasonable to me? What sins have I committed by working and saving money for my tuition? Is this the greatest country they talk about? Why me?

All my frnds are not happy with new INS notice, but they have reconciled to the fact that I have to leave. After crying one night, Dona too accepted my fate.

The only problem is I have not accepted this fate. No. I am not ready to go back to India without my degree.

Crazy ideas entering my mind on hourly basis as the day of departure approaches.

A day before the deadline I call President of the University Dr. Patrick Crecine to seek his help. He is away attending GA Tech football championship in Florida. A lady called Jennifer picks up the phone and talks sweetly. ( She introduces herself as his Girl Friend, I remember. Girlfriends are always nice)

I tell her what INS is doing to me and ask for help from the President. I end my conversation by saying “ I will burn myself at Georgia Tech Student Center if INS deports me today”.

Some student in India had burnt himself protesting against Mandal Commsion – that is where the idea came from.

She calms me down and asks me that I give her 15 mins before I do anything stupid. She wants a promise from me. I promise.

She hangs up.

In 5 minutes two cops knock on my door.  They too do a search of my body for any weapon.

And then they ask me to come up with them for a ride.

Love, Dona!

"Love, Dona!"

"You go to a women's bedroom and "don’t do a thing" man???"

I did not go her bedroom...she took me there...
Okay, let me get this straight. She picks you up from home, takes you to a dinner and a movie...
And she teaches me how to play pools too
Okay, she takes you to a bar and teaches you how to play pool...
Yes
And then
She wanted to show me her apartment, so she took me her home.
And then
She wanted me to see her bedroom...
AND THEN?
And then I ask her to drop me home...

Tony unable to control his laughter gets out his truck and laughs away to glory.

Tony Ross, my immediate boss and I are sitting in a truck talking about my journeys in the last weekend.  Tony is an African American and like most African Americans he laughs with is body and soul.

I am able to secure an internship with GDOT and am responsible for the bridge constructions on GA 400 Buckhead Extension.

I am feeling offended with his non-stop laughter and he realizes it. It is a chilly morning. He comes back in the truck and tries to be nice.

"Look here man, I understand you from India and you all that, but THIS IS AMERICA. You don’t go to a woman's bedroom and don’t DO a thing. You insulted her man. By your action you told her she is not desire able.

The desire able girl under discussion is called M.A.  She had asked me out the last weekend. However, from Monday I had noticed a change in her attitude, so I was jiving with Tony to get to the bottom of the issue.

In my defense I throw the following words: "Emotions, Culture, Soul, Islam, Haram, Mental Block, Love, Poetry, Stranger etc." and I end my argument with " besides I am saving myself for my wife"

Tony erupts again.

{Note: In those days million years ago "saving yourself for your spouse" was a valid reason for not doing a lot of crazy things. I feel my generation is the last one that would produce Sufi saints and Rishis.}

“If not doing anything was an insult – I would do that again” - I declare.
“She wont give you a chance to insult her again man!”

Tony was right…

Tony is a character. Whenever I see him in the morning and say " Good Morning Tony" he wud always respond with " Too early for a good morning man, we have not seen the boss man yet".

He drops me home every day. That weekend episode was a topic of discussion among male employees for a while, and as a result Tony started calling me "Casanova without the Car!"

Winter, 1990. Restaurant

Why you need a car? Dona wants to know.

By this time, I have made enough money to buy a second hand car. I was looking for a go ahead from Dona. She has become my guardian angel in these months. So running things by her before doing was the norm.

I need a car because.... I tried to make up some crappy excuses.

Dona is a Georgia Tech graduate and is at a high position in a Railway company. She did not get to that position by listening some BS from idiots. She explains to me rationally why a car is not a good idea. I need to pay attention to studies.

I agree with her!

Earlier, Even though the court had given me a break my struggle was far from over. I had no money to pay $2100 tuition fee. The office of international students at Georgia Tech recommended me for an out of state tuition waiver which means I have to $610 only - a fee that long time residents of Georgia pay.

Dona arranged First Presbyterian Church at Peachtree Street to pay my in state tuition of $610.  At First Presbyterian, I meet some genuine people who made me feel like home.I visited Sunday school of the First Presbyterian many a times but never, ever anyone suggested or hinted that I convert to Christianity. Ever.

I still have the copy of the $610 that First Presbyterian issued to me!

Life is good!!