Message in a Picture

Dec 1992, INT. NIGHT

I found myself sitting next to this FPN in a poker game. I found her to be gorgeous and charming though no sparks flew in any directions. I was completing my Masters at Georgia Tech and by design I was geeky type, unsure of the complexities of life if they don’t result in a solve able equation on my calculator.

But the Nature has its own games to play. So halfway thru the game I started hearing some voices in my head. I ignored them, but the Nature was persistent. It started sending me the same message in the form of images instead.

I saw her in a white dress, a small town Baptist Church, happy faces, Rev Evans as Betsy, I saw Vintage Ford with those words and balloons, and I saw some Romantics Etc. Etc.

Just right then, someone knocked on the door. We all turned around to see a cop in uniform entering the house.  He was introduced as the brother of that FPN. He was friendly and fun guy, but I was from India. In India cops are suppose to be Judge, Jury and the executioners, and they carry the load of Indian Patriarchy on their shoulders.

Well, to cut the story short, the freshly downloaded images started disappearing one after the other in a hurry. The white dress was the first one to be erased.  The romance and Etc. Etc. hung on for a while, but in the end they too gave up and left. By the time the game was over I had no images left to review again.

Then life distracted me and I forgot about her.

After Maa, I went looking for my lost life in the form of pictures from the past, and found her again.  Life has written lots of stories on her face as it did on mine. We all get that. No exceptions.

This time I revived those images without fear or retribution. This is what I like about getting old and single.  No fear. It should not have been in those moments too, but we all are prisoners of our own devices.

Ps: My frnd who is a Bulldog fan says it’s my GA Tech influence that made me so cautious in pursuing her further. If I were a UGA grad I would have asked her out regardless of the outcome.

May be he is right!

Oh well!

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

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!

Blog ( Sept 8, 2008) continues:

I used to feel protected while hanging around you. I used to enjoy those long drives with no destinations. Your talks of contributing and changing the world still live in my imagination. My writings and films do show a flavor of what we used to talk back then. I have not changed!

One day, when a bully made me realize that " America is not your country", I was feeling depressed and down when you showed up and took me to the library. Thrusting the constitution of the United States in my hands you said, " This is as much as your country as theirs, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, Shahid!".

You always pronounced my name right. I was surprised and wondered where and how you learned to pronounce my name properly. It’s been so many years now and yet my friends and colleagues don’t call me Shahid, I am Shaheeed to them. The other day Mullah Luis's FPN called my name properly. I missed you!

In spite of being such a gem of a person you had complexities too. You never allowed me to take your pictures. One evening, while we were driving under a moon lit night, I wanted to take your pictures. I had bought a camera for that purpose. You said no and that was it. I pleaded and cited the magic of moonlight dancing on your face, the poetry of the moment, the lovely environment. But you did not relent even at the cost of me remaining upset for a few days.

However, a week before my departure to India, you came to my apartment with a few pictures. This time I did not even ask for them. I don’t remember what happened other then that Shakir was not in, and I was watching Atlanta play Minnesota for the World Series. I was totally engrossed in the game when you showed up.... I took the pictures from you but did not open the envelope as I was waiting for a commercial break. In a few seconds you did a reversal, and announced you not only wanted to go but also would like to take the picture back as well.

I still have those pictures...

I always admired your ability to rise above the petty boundaries of religion, border and color. You wanted to " go work in a third world country and contribute". You were a global citizen even before it became a buzzword. Mullah Luis says “by working and living in Montana you are like living and contributing to a third world Country. You have kept your words!" :)))

Ps: I found you on classmate’s finder web site. It provided me all the information about you like where you are now, where have you been since leaving Tech and whom you are married to? What distance you have traveled!'

PPS: I am no going to call you ...am a man of my words!

Blog Ends

July 2014.

I connect with her and get an immediate response. (Age mellows everyone and am no exception). After initial surprises, I share my blog post. She reads the blog and responds. Every response and the thought behind it makes me smile and is worth a poem, a painting, a film – or a Taj Mahal.

- " First of all the the color of my eyes is Hazel Green and not just Green!"

- “ You sleep at 3AM, I wake up at 4 AM looking at the maps of India!”

- " I want to know everything that happened after that night!"

- "That night cud have gone either way. I was getting pulled towards you and was even preparing to go with you to India. You were so upset that you cud not notice the turbulence inside me."

Let me take a time out here….