“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she with silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” (Lazurus) With the hope of freedom and the hope of a better life, many come to this “New World.” My father was one of them.
Punjab, India, the “Land of Five Rivers,” known for its fertility, colorful panorama and exquisitely serene and clean atmosphere. But in the late twentieth century these pure rivers were filled with red blood, and the fertile land was sheeted with corpses. Majority of Punjab consists of the Sikh people and in 1984 there was a political persecution of the Sikh people. In the Sikh Genocide of 1984, Congress hoodlums slaughtered thousands of Sikh men, women and children. Sikhs were burned alive, butchered or beaten to death. Women were raped while their terrified families pleaded for mercy. For days and nights the killing and pillaging continued without the police, the civil administration and the Union government lifting a finger in admonishment. Basic human rights of the Sikh people were violated and till day justice isn’t and will not be served. Times were bad; politics had affected everything and continue to. The government did not provide education, safety and basic needs like water in Punjab. Facing all these hardships was getting harder and my parents saw no future. So my parents made the decision to come to New York City in the hope of a better life.
My parents came to New York in 1991. Of course the struggle didn’t end. With the language barrier and limited education, my father was forced to do labor work. A few years in construction and now its been over 20 years as a taxi driver. My mother is a homemaker and raised my two siblings and me. Their entire lifestyle changed, some for better and some for worse but as a whole, my parents are content with the fact that they were able to provide their children a better life. NYC has it’s own cultures and beliefs and my parents have raised us to accept those but also have instilled our roots from back home, being be able to educate others about our culture and beliefs as well. Today my parents have adequate jobs, homes, and are able to insure their kids to safety and a great education; They breathe free in the land of freedom.
As for myself, I thank my parents for this life. They gave up a lot and because of them I am able to enjoy the pure part of my culture, that they brought with them, and practice my beliefs with acceptance. Yes, I face challenges myself because my parents aren’t able to help me all the time but that’s what makes me who I am. I am independent, and education is something that is greatly instilled in my culture so as children of immigrants, we are becoming Americans, becoming majorities and we are getting ahead. (Kasinitz)
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