The Rediff Special/Biswajit Aikat

America comes of Age

I remember coming to America in the early seventies. At that time there were few people from India and Pakistan there and most of these were employed in invisible places, such as universities and hospitals.

Many American universities had professors such as the famous Dr Hargobind Khorana and hospitals had many doctors. But Indians were invisible. You could not see them everywhere. An American friend at the university I was attending said, "Yesterday, I saw someone wearing a turban cleaning windows." I was not sure whether he was surprised that the man was wearing a turban or that the man was cleaning windows. To me both are acceptable.

Sure, at that time there were Hare Krishna people at many university campuses, but they were not Indians. They were American kids fed up with the Vietnam war who were protesting in an unusual manner. When they dressed in traditional Indian garb, no one mistook them for Indians. In fact, most Indians did not know what to make of them either.

Then I moved to Canada. Seldom was anyone wearing a sari seen in Canada. I remember the wife of my first boss asking very intently what the bindi on the forehead of Indian women meant. I explained that it was merely a cosmetic beauty spot. Then she pulled out her copy of Encyclopedia Britannica and read the section on Taj Mahal and about Mumtaz Mahal. She thought all women lived like Mumtaz. My boss told me they were very surprised when they first saw an Indian woman in a sari. Everyone in town stared at her. Now that is fame. What woman would not want the whole town to look at her?

A decade later came a wave of anger against Indian immigrants. There was a story about a gang in New Jersey calling themselves the Dotbusters, meaning they targeted Indian women wearing bindis or "dots". In Canada there were many well-publicised attacks on Indians.

I used to have a supervisory job where my boss asked me how I will handle a bad remark at work from a worker. I told him I would talk to the person to find out what his problem was.

There was a story that Indians were called by the word Paki meaning Pakistani. The word was originally coined in London but was used in a derogatory manner. Many Indians didn't like being called Pakis and usually went home very hurt. It felt like we were back in high school once again. It was like calling somebody Lambu and Ghonchu just to get his attention. Sometimes the name sticks, such as the word nigger is used in the US in a derogatory manner for black people. But the name only sticks when you react to it.

Time passed and Indians were no longer invisible and working in universities and hospitals. They were working in stores, driving taxis, fixing cars, opening restaurants, running sari shops and walking down the street in their strange clothes. The trouble was that Indian culture, which is a very strong one, was not restricted anymore to academics in universities or to museums: it was everywhere.

Indians celebrated Diwali, went to Hindu temples on weekends, ate spicy food and exotic vegetables like karela and spoke complex languages. Americans were waking up to a new culture which questioned many of their values and visual symbols.

About this time the word "visible minorities" was coined. I suppose in any society minorities become a problem when they become visible. Because people depend on their visual perceptions a lot. North America is no exception to that. There is more fashion, more cars, more pride in big houses here than anywhere else.

Then came the nineties. The nineties changed things. I guess this was the Salman Rushdie era. He was an Indian writer who wrote in English, lived under British protection as a symbol of the Western world's freedom of press. He was also on the bestseller's list and won many awards. The world had truly turned upside down. Unfortunately I cannot go back to many of my old acquaintances to see their reaction.

For example, there was the vice-president in the first company I worked who said, "I believe in India they speak a pidgin English." I tried to explain. In vain. At that time I myself did not know that English and other European languages are derived from the same place as Sanskrit.

One of the most popular writer in Canada now is Rohinton Mistry. My boss yesterday asked me if I have read any of Rohinton Mistry's books. I laughed. I said I was still reading Kalidas. Mr Mistry would have to wait. As my English professor once said when someone asked him whether he had read all the works of Shakespeare: "I have not finished Chaucer yet."

So what has changed and how has it changed? Visibly, a lot. Women wear salwar kameezes in every city of the USA and Canada. American girls also use the bindi and nose ornaments (nak chabi). Sikh men with turban are seen everywhere.

The Hare Krishna movement is alive, but somewhat muted. It is replaced by a very visible Ganesh Chaturthi in many cities where Indians from India or from the West Indies do the visarjan. Mata ki Jagaran and Chowki are also commonplace.

Indian music is everywhere, from Carnegie Hall to Harvard University to the UN. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Lata Mangeshkar have performed in every city in North America. I did not see them because I could not afford the price of the ticket any more. Twenty years ago I could see an Indian artiste for five dollars. Now it costs 35 dollars. I am no longer single and I have children to feed.

There is a lot of depth And how has Indian culture caught on? Consider, the best tabla site on the Internet is run by an American. You can learn the bols, buy a tabla, find a teacher in your city or learn to tune or fix a tabla on the Internet.

Then there's the largest Shiva temple in the world -- in Hawaii. And its mostly run by Americans, except for a few swamis from Sri Lanka. You can learn Hinduism in any university in North America.

York University in Toronto gives a degree in Indian music. There are schools for learning Hindi, Bengali, Marathi, Gurmukhi and the rest of the 22 Indian languages in every city which is also part of the high school curriculum. Vegetarianism is on the rise. All airlines in continental America offer "Hindu" meals. I prefer it -- it is usually better than the normal airline food.

Some American scientists now claim that vegetarianism is the best option because by 2040 there will not be enough food to sustain the world population unless we all switch to a vegetarian diet.

In essence, North America has lost its innocence. Indians and Pakistanis have brought their fierce rivalry to the cricket grounds of Toronto. And then, Mehdi Hassan came to New York and spent half the evening singing one line: Jab kisi ne mujhse yeh baat to poocha. How can you sing one line of song in 200 different ways? We have now totally confused them.

And the Americans thought they understood life. Their motto in the sixties was a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage. But there are 16 different ways of making vindaloo chicken ghosht. I feel personally responsible for the confusion.

I wonder where my old Californian friend Larry is today. He was the nicest and simplest man I have ever known. One day he came running to me and said: "I saw this man playing a jumbo guitar." The man was actually playing a sitar. God bless Larry. There are 60,000 raags and raginis that can be played on a sitar. Alas, life is not simple any more.

But Americans still play football with their hands. I have often thought of asking them why they call it football when they play the game using their hands. But I never can gather the confidence. After all, I am only a small man and weigh less than a few stones. The Americans are big people. Even Canadians are afraid of them. I guess they can play the game any way they like.

Meanwhile, I am seriously considering the proposal from the Bengali intellectual Nirad Chaudhari who lives in Oxford. He says a Bengali bhadralok (gentleman) should demonstrate his status by always wearing a dhoti and kurta in public at all times. Next time I am in Washington I will wear my dhoti and kurta. It will be a nice change. The world will be a softer, gentler place.

Isn't that what President Bush wanted America to become?

Illustration: Dominic Xavier

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