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!!

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....

Love, Dona ( Part 3)

Late Nov 1989.

I juggle / attempt a few more jobs in the meantime. They range from donating my sperm to working at a gas station to volunteering for a staircase case design study, in which "volunteers" were asked to fall down on it.

The last job that made me real mad was at a carpet showroom. It was bang opposite the Brookhaven Marta Station. Even though the job was to sell carpets, the owner once put me in a Pillory out on the street. I was tied, my head placed in between two logs of wood. By the time I realize, the whole story, it was too late.

In the medieval times, criminals were put in Pillories to get abuse and humiliated, before the punishments meted out to them.

There I was, standing with my hands and neck squeezed between two pieces of logs - in full public view - under the sun. Anger, and hurt visible in my eyes and pedestrians and those driving by looking at me with curiosity. I am calming myself by saying " This is Halal Rozi...Its ok - I can take it!"

But I could not... I leave that job the next day!

These days when we do workshop on entrepreneurship under my NGO " Threshold Initiators", we emphasize the need to be do business with ethics. That businessman, who put me in a Pillory as a marketing gimmick was not a good man... not an ethical one for sure!

Dec First week, 1989.

I receive a court summon asking me to appear for a "deportation hearing" at the INS building, downtown Atlanta.

Until now, I was hoping that the "system" after looking at my academic record, would let me off the hook. I will be forgiven for a lack of judgment or whatever. Now, my humiliating deportation to India is certain. I hear stories after stories of how people were taken straight from the courtroom to the airport. Deported.

The court hearing is still a month away. On the top of the summon they have written " Shahid SAYED V/S United States of America!", which means my personal rebellion has taken a new form now.

I have no choice but to fight and rebel against the country that I travel so far to.... a country I loved.

Dona and I have decided to not engage an attorney but show up ourselves at the court. Whatever free time I find from my jobs, is spend on researching the INS laws that I was charged with. I have decided to represent myself at the hearing.

Second week December 1989.

I get a call from the INS agent asking me to see him in his office. He has a proposal for me. I meet him. He is willing to drop all charges he says, "If I help him bust a drug dealer." He informs me how they will put “body armor” on me, "wire me" and provide me the address to show up as a customer for buying drugs. They will listen to the conversation and at some point of time; they will barge in and arrest everyone.

I will be a free man again!

Growing up in India, like most Urdu readers of my generation, I too wanted to be Ali Imran of Ibne Safi's detective novels. The problem was unlike Ali Imran 007, who enjoys a lot of "things" before he takes on the bad guys, I was suppose to deal with gangsters on the very first paragraph.

And there was no sign of Juliana Fitzwater as well...so I refuse!

Someone from the mosque makes me another offer: He can get me a Green card on an Agriculture worker visa, provided I am willing to take up a new name and new identity.

Loss of identity? I would rather go back to India than lose my name. I refuse!

And then comes the all time classic offer: Get married to an American girl on paper, and no one can throw me out.

First marriage, wrong reasons. No romance. I refuse!

I am sure, I can write a few books on " How to be flexible in life to achieve your goals"!!

Court date is upon me!

My first court appearance in any country....

Dona, compares me to Kevin Kostner character of " Dances with Volves", who was hounded by the Federal agents for no good reasons. All he wanted was a peaceful life of love and happiness...

I can live with that...

3/5

Love, Dona! ( Part 2)

Early Nov 1989, late evening.

After keeping me in custody while he was filling out paperwork charging me with breaking US laws, the officer allowed me to go. He took my mug shots, my fingerprints and handed me a motion or something stating what US laws I have violated etc. Earlier during the day he drove me to my apartment and did some preliminary search. Looked at my stuff....pics ...and took away my passport.  

It was so humiliating to go up to my apartment with my handcuffed like a criminal. My roommates were also in the same "work-boat", so after initial shock of watching me with cops, they were hiding and praying that I don’t reveal their names...

I did not.

The office escorted me out of the building. He blurred " You are a good man Mr. Sayed!"

What a feeling it was to be free again! Yet freedom it was.  To walk without getting noticed. To go anywhere I wanted. I walked and walked all the way to Cheshire Road, an off campus community near Georgia Tech - to my apartment!

Then I went into a serious depression...

Late Nov 1989

My friend Ted Schelling had come over to pick me up. He wanted to take me to some "Dinner for International Students" arranged by some Socio-Cultural organization at a hotel. I had told him and not going, yet he showed up. I was too depressed to be social. He was trying to get me out of my pathetic state of mind. Reluctantly I went with him.

By the time we got there, the program has already begun. The hall was full of international students from all countries. Not many seats were empty. I notice one empty seat in the last row.  Here I was with my unshaven and unkempt sitting there staring at the stage blankly.

The speaker mentioned something and everyone started looking at a pamphlet or something. I did not have one, so I looking around to see what it was...just then white women sitting on my left stretched her hand to show me what it was. I noticed her for the first time. She smiled. 

"You can look here!"

That was Dona!

That’s how I met her 25 years ago!!

At the end of the program, the Organizers requested the Americans present in the audience to invite one international student for the Thanksgiving Dinner to their homes. 

Dona invited me.

Early Dec 1989

Dona by knows the whole mess that I am in. She wants to help me whatever way possible. I am trying to be brave. But how much brave you can be when you are in a new country, have no job and need money for tuition for the winter session. And yes, you have a court case coming up. 

I call up various attorneys from the yellow pages about helping me out. They all quote huge amount. I have problem feeding myself where I am going to get that kind of money. My diet has become "Omletty" these days. I eat egg for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner. 

My recent frnd from India N.K. (who is a good story teller in Mumbai film Industry now) offers to take me to the nearest Kroger for shopping essentials. The nearest Kroger was miles away, poor KN used to drive three times that distance to pick me up, take me there, wait till I finish shopping and then drop me back home. 

After doing my routine of Maatam (Depression, reasoning and resolution) I have decided to fight it out. I can’t be home sitting all day feeling sorry for myself. I am not going back to India without a fight.

I need a job again. So rejoin the same job. I told myself “they can’t charge me twice for the same crime”

I am doing three jobs now. The Egyptian owner of gift shop was so kind that he hired me back taking a risk with me.

My day starts at 6 am. I am gift shop of Holiday Inn by 7 am. I take off from them at 3:30 pm and come home for lunch. Then I go to my on campus job at gymnasium for 2 hours and then I head for Sandy Spring to work in a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream shop till 11.

All day my mind drifts into calculating my earnings the day in dollars. Then I convert those earnings into Indian currency.

Every night while mid town to my apartment, I go to Georgia Tech to check my mailbox. I am desperately waiting for some letter to arrive from India. With heavy heart and hope I open my mailbox…. only to find letters for Jennifer Drummond, a girl who is sharing my mail box.

Nothing for me!

I come out of Student Center Post office and sit down on one of the steps outside.

I cry.

At the end of those crying sessions, I remind myself “ There is no India for you Shahid, no one except Maa. You are alone. You have to fight this all alone…this is home…. there is no India…. no India now!

Love, Dona!

My birthday wishes card from her has arrived... It is card no 25.

Why 25? Coz she and I have known each other for 25 years!

In these 25 years, between US and India, I have changed my address at least a dozen times. But she always found my address to send me my birthday wishes. Every year....year after year!

A lot changes in 25 years....people meet, fall in love, drift away. Lots n lots of new experiences come and go. Career goes from Arsh to Farsh to somewhere in between. 25 years is a damn long time.....Time is cruel. It changes everything!

Not her...

This time, even time failed to change the arrival of this birthday card from her to me. Even though, at times, I failed in reciprocating the same on her birthday or chose internet cards to wish her. She always stuck to the paper card via snail mail. Same Hallmark card...same last two words " Love, Dona!"

This is her story...

Nov, 1989, Atlanta, GA

I am in serious depression. Have not been eating properly since my arrest. How could someone eat or sleep if the biggest dream of your life ( of getting education in America) just got busted. I am looking at a deportation form the US back to India. My crime: I was working off campus without proper INS permission.

One morning a couple of INS agent approached me in the gift shop I was working at and asked me " Are you Shahid Sayed?". I said " Yes I am"

"You are under arrest...lets go...." all they said and handcuffed me.

My world collapsed right before my eyes. I knew its over. They made me sit in the back of the police car like they do to hardened criminals. I have tears in my eyes. I am thinking of mother. How would she take this....How would she react to see me back in India without my Masters degree in Civil Engineering?

Tears pick up intensity....

I look at the streets of downtown Atlanta.....my story is over within 6 months of arrival in this exciting country. A country of hope, humanity and justice. Now, I will be deported for earning money to pay my bills, to save money for my tuition at Georgia Tech.......to stay alive!

Jaan Bujh Kar Ki Hui Galtiyan...

"Main ne Jaane bujh kar, ya anjaane main jo bhi Galtiyan Ki hain - please Unhen Maaf kar den. Main ek nayi Zindagi Shuru karne jaa rahi hoon....aur......."

Images of "Jaan Boojh Kar Galtiyan" flickered in the the fakeer's mind. Each image triggering new emotions, new thoughts.......There was a long pause...

" Jaa Maaf Kiya .... Khush Reh...!"

Then, they lived happily ever after....