February has just kicked in. Thankfully, January has taken along
all traces of snow, leaving tiny green twigs to peek out from beneath the
wrinkled brown branches. Its still cold, but definitely not as dark as before.
Inch by inch, sunlight is streaming in my world too.
Those who have read my previous post would know, I had
almost come to believe, I am the only living person here. I mean there are
spotless houses and clean streets, and hordes of cars, but I couldn’t sight those
inhabiting them. The ghostly silence had grown so intimidating that I wondered if
and when I would witness bedlam again.
Then office started (thankfully!) and I was for the first
time, since coming to the US, breathing and living amongst Real people, people with
varied features, nationalities, ethnicities and languages. From a blank white
sheet, I transitioned into a ‘rainbow zone’ overnight.
As kids we grow up with certain stereotypes in our minds. Fuelled
sometimes by hearsay, sometimes by media, we typecast cultures, categorize
races. And the older we grow, the stronger they become. Much to my own embarrassment,
I had always thought of the American society as a sum of dysfunctional families
where people don’t believe in marriages, kids are thrown out of homes the day
they turn 18 and no one cares about the old and ailing.
I would have perhaps taken this notion to grave, had I not
experienced the reality first hand. My first encounter was with a real estate
agent, a lady in her early fifties, who was helping me find an apartment. Unfortunately
the deal didn’t work out, nevertheless I emerged wiser. The way she acted and
the things she spoke, she was no less protective than my own aunt in India. It
mattered to her that I was a girl and from a faraway country. The little
details she considered while searching for a place, had even escaped my own
worried mind.
The more I mingle with people, the more I realize how wrong
I had been. Strange as it may sound, here people marry much younger, even
before they finish college. Some who don’t do, do stay with their parents or
grandparents if they are in the same city. People here love kids, and indeed it
is a kid friendly nation. Any grocery store I visit, I find men & women playfully
carrying adorable kids in perambulators or over trolleys, not a sign of
irritation marring their faces. Where are the wild parties. As soon as the
clock hits 5, people rush to be home with spouses, kids and pets. Talking of
pets, everyone seems to have one or more here and from the way they stroll
around with the little animals even in the dead of winter, speaks volume about
their care & concern.
I had a similarly distorted notion about Pakistanis. What
with cross border violence and never-ending regressive politics, there were the
‘perennial’ enemies. I grew up with scary images of them in my mind till I accidentally
stumbled upon some of their soaps aired by an Indian channel. Its just an LOC that
separates us, rest, our sensibilities, our emotions and even our problems are
alike. I am infact so touched by few of these stories and their potrayals that
if I ever have to, I would anyday rate theirs over ours.
Living alone in a foreign land, I have begun to look beyond
the labels. I get so few opportunities, that I make it a point to forge new
friendships whenever I can. So whether its the Hindi speaking Jamaican lady at
the cafeteria, the black lady who drives the bus I take to office every morning,
the Salvadorian kid who speaks only Spanish, which I then translate using a English-Spanish
translator or a Bangaleshi neighbour, I greet them everyday. Sometimes they
share stories too which i love to hear. Each day I break more walls. Each day I
straighten out few tangled knots. Each day I learn afresh
“A human being is a human being, colour, race, region not
withstanding”
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