Forever Waiting
In 1984 Indira Gandhi’s decision to proceed with Operation Blue Star, which led to open fire at the Golden Temple in Punjab, caused India to plunge into complete turmoil. Her decision resulted in an attack on the holiest Sikh location in India, and the death of hundreds of Sikhs; this rooted a deep desire for revenge amongst Sikhs. In response to the atrocity that she was largely responsible for, Indira Gandhi’s two trusted Sikh bodyguards shot her to death. After this shooting, all hell broke loose, as both Hindu and Sikh extremists became more and more violent. In rural areas of Punjab, violence occurred on a much smaller level, due to the fact that it was a primarily Sikh area. However as time went by, the Indian Police began killing many young Sikh men, accusing them of being extremists, even though most of them were innocent. This left only two options for many young men all over the state of Punjab; either leave their families behind and go abroad, or stay and live a refugee lifestyle with a group of young men also on the run, looking for revenge; otherwise referred to as the extremists.
This is the reason my dad came to America, leaving behind his family, and most importantly his mother, whom he loved more than anyone. The following is a story, which my dad has told me so many times, that it feels as if I was actually there to witness every moment.
Leaving
“Bang! Bang!” The gate rattled furiously, as the butt of the police officer’s gun clashed with the metal gate, echoing for what felt like an eternity. As my grandma opened the gate, a group of police officers stood there in their khaki uniforms, with their guns in hand. They resembled a pack of wild dogs, drooling for the chance to pull the trigger, and pocket some extra cash. Without asking for permission, they ran into the house, searching for any “suspected extremists”. Failing to find anyone, the lead officer stormed out of the house barking out curses, while his pack followed behind him.
“It’s no longer safe for you to stay here Joginder. The Police came again today, and who knows when they will show up next,” my grandma said to my dad when he returned home from Kabaddi (Indian sport) practice. “Please listen to me, and meet with the travel agent tomorrow.”
“Where am I supposed to go? Do you just want me to leave you here?” he asked her rhetorically. Without knowing, my dad had raised his voice. He noticed that his mom, who rarely cried, was now tearing, so not wanting to upset his mom even more, he decided to meet with the agent. After all, he thought, she only wanted what was best for him. In a couple of days, the agent made the plans, and found a flight to take my father to Germany.
A few weeks later, as he was leaving for the airport my dad made a promise to his mother, saying that he would return to her as soon as possible. He didn’t know what to expect from this new land he was heading to, but whatever it was, he had no choice but to accept it. Both were victims of circumstance; never did he imagine that he would leave his mother to live in a foreign land, and never did my grandma think that she would send off her son so far away.
“I will be waiting for you” she responded to his promise in tears. As she watched him leave, little did she know that it would be the last time that she would see her youngest son.
Foreign Lands
My dad spent the next two years living in Germany. He worked five days a week, and sent back money to his mother every month. He enjoyed his time there, but didn’t see any opportunity to grow. So, when he discovered an opportunity to go to New York City he quickly jumped on board. By this time, the hostile atmosphere in India had also cooled significantly, and my grandma would often ask my dad how much longer she would have to wait to see him. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to go to America, he kept extending his promise, telling her that he would only be in America for a year or so, and that he would return soon after.
In New York City, a group of his brother’s friends took him in and introduced him to the trucking business. “I’m only here for a year or two, and then I’m going to return to India” he told his brother’s friends when he first got here.
When they heard this, they both exploded in laughter. “That’s what we all say when we get here, but when the money starts coming in, things change,” one of them responded. “We’ll discuss this in a year or two.”
After driving a truck for a friend for a few months, he branched off and started to buy his own trucks. As his business expanded, the chances of him returning to his mother decreased more and more. He continued to talk to his mom and he continued to tell her that it was only a matter of months before he returned. However as time passed by, and his business expanded, these few months became a few years. Soon, his mother passed away, and he was shattered emotionally. Ever since then, he hasn’t forgiven himself; like the others he too became an addict of this drug called opportunity, and because of it he lost sight of what was most important.
While he sits in his leather office chair and slowly falls into a daydream, he often thinks of her. He thinks of her unconditional love, all the things she did for him, and most of all the promise that he had failed to fulfill. He regrets the fact that he let himself become so vulnerable to wealth and success that he couldn’t even return home to visit his mother. Now, he goes back to India almost every year, because he says that it is the only place where he can feel his mother’s presence. He almost feels as if she’s still waiting for him. Whenever I’m in an argument with my mom, he always tells me “Your mother is the only person who will be there for you no matter what, so never, ever take her for granted.”
Links for images
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2 comments
When you told me your story about your father and being caught up in America that he never got a chance to go back to India to see his mother, I felt so sorry for both of them. I know your father did not mean to never go back, and I am sure his mother knew that your father did not intentionally stay in America and leave her behind. I admire how your father often goes back to India now and I am sure your grandmother is always with him in spirit when he visits. 🙂
This piece shows how important it is to cherish one’s family, especially since we don’t know just how long we will have them for. I’m glad your father shared this with you because his story is something we can all certainly learn from.