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!

Main Roya Pardesh Main

Bheeega Maa Ka Piyaar

Dukh Ne Dukh Se Baat Ki

Bin Chitti, Bin Taar ...   Nida Fazli

The news that her son is arrested, is enough to scare the daylight of any mother - mine was no exception. In her case, she had no clue as to why I was arrested. I call her to inform her that am ok. Those days a call to India was $2.49/minute.  I only call for a few minutes. 

I try to be brave...but fail. " Mera Shahid to bahut bahadur hai. Dil chota nahi karte beta. Allah pe Bharosa Rakho", says she in order to boost my morale.  I can guarantee hat that after hanging up the phone she must have cried a hundred times.  To this day, I have not re-visited this topic with her.

January first week, 1990.

There is this 18-year-old freshman at Emory University who asks me out. She says she has been noticing my behavior at work. She says when I am dealing with customers I am very cheerful, but on my break I look so gloomy and sad. She is curious to know.  She is fun to be work with and every third sentence of hers starts with “ am only 18!”

She picks me up from Lennox Marta Station and takes me to a fancy restaurant.  I don’t eat. It’s only while on a walk after the dinner that we talk. She tells me her story and that she is the "unplanned baby" of her owners (parents). She is not happy with them. She is rebelling against them. Then it was my turn to open up. At some point while talking about mother I break down.

Here she was holding me by my arms and am crying like a baby, with the crowd asking her " Is he ok? U need help?”

Life!

January 2nd week, 1990.

" Tell your frnd to stop seeing my daughter else I will come there, blow his brains and send his body to his *** father!" 

I am sitting with my Nigerian frnds one evening, when her owner (father) calls to lay down the terms of endearment. Her other owner (mother) tells me that "Both of you are not compatible". I went to "Chor Bazar Municipal Urdu School and she went to the top school in Atlanta - there can never be anything compatible between us. 

Her owner punish her by transferring her from Emory to a low grade university away from Atalnta, GA.

That story ends in a few weeks. One day I send her a card saying good-bye. She writes me back saying, " I saved her life. She was so going to commit suicide on the railway track. She checked her mail and found my card and that my words saved her!” She ends the note with " Whoever she is going to be Shahid, your wife is going to be very lucky!"

Nine years later in India, a Dhaan Paan Si, Sanvli Ladki, sitting on a boat in river Ganga looks at me lovingly and informs, " I am so lucky to have you - you are the best gift from Allah!”  I smile back and pretend that I never heard that before. I don’t want to spoil her honeymoon!

January 3rd week, 1990.

I am in the Court Room with Dona. I am already a " Dead Man Walking". There are two mean looking cops in the courtroom. They are in full police gear and look threatening. These cops are the ones who on the order of the judge will take me into custody, and take me to the airport.

I am scared...really scared.

ALL RISE! Shouts the clerk of the court. We all stand up as a middle aged white man enters the courtroom. He asks us to sit down. He identifies me and reads the charges against me. He asks me a few more questions. Then...

The judge says " There are some changes the laws relating to the students, let me see of Mr. Sayed gets the benefits of new laws". He wants another hearing in future. 

Well, the judge just gave me a break! The judicial system and ideals of Jefferson, Lincoln and Carter helped me out. 

I breathe again....