Why

Dear readers, I am sure you are wondering what makes this foreigner's journal different or special. Several people travel from one country to another for almost all possible purposes - education, business, vacation, marriage, wasting money, broadening sexual horizons, just for fun, drug dealing, terrorism, assassination blah blah blah and what not!!! So why is this one special? Well, it's not, not in anyway or anyhow or under any circumstances. It's a mundane story of an average foreigner whom you come across in the streets of New York or San Francisco. It's a journey of one of those thousand Indians who come to USA for graduate school at first and then whatever. You may find someone like me anywhere and possibly everywhere, most probably in software companies, universities, gas stations, taxi cabs, hospitals and comedies like Harold and Kumar as Kumar's parents or The Big Bang Theory as Raj Koothrappali (minus his occasional gayness).

And that is exactly what, my friend, makes this story an amazing one. It's my story, your story, his and her story and millions of other people's story. This is the story that you can relate to because most probably you have lived a similar life, if not an uncannily same life. And you will be amazed to see how a commoner's life is same everywhere in this world – at least I was amazed to find that out and still I am. Dear readers, you and I share the same dream, same happiness, same frustration, same urges, same fear and overall same life. You know what makes any book or movie or song a great piece of work – the experience of experiencing things that someone else had and you had too. Say when you listen to a song which is about the same things that you have been through in your life, you feel an immediate connection between you and the songwriter or singer. And it is this amazing connection that makes you feel in harmony with that work of art, makes you fall in love with it little more every time, rediscover yourself; the feeling that somebody else (however a complete stranger he or she is) also felt the same things the same way as you did is just wonderful.

Let me tell you one story about that. I was in Florida at that time, going to school for my Master's degree. It was spring time; my roommate's friend was visiting him. We were having a bbq with some other friends. Couple of beers later, I was asked to take my guitar out and play something. I was already in a local band, “east-west rock band” and my band used to play locally here and there – my friends and roommate were our biggest fans. Normally in this situation I cover some famous songs, but not sure what I thought that day, I sang one of my own songs that I have never sang in front of people, never. Honestly, I think its a cheesy song but it came from the core of my heart; it was true, it was something I felt myself – it was about a lost love. I have composed way better songs before and after this – better lyrics, better music, better effects and arrangements but this song is one of my all time favorites and the reason is my roommate's friend. So coming back to the story - after I finished my song, we all saw tears in my roommate's friend's eyes. A rough and tough guy, drinking beer, smoking cigar and tears in his eyes!!! He whispered to me - “how did you know?” Know what?! I was totally lost. It did not take him long to break into tears. Later I came to know from my roommate that he was going through a rough time with his longtime girlfriend. Somehow my song touched him somewhere deep deep inside and he couldn't resist his tears. I never thought my music could touch someone on that deep of a level – so deep that one of the most true emotions would come out. Tears are more true than laughter. All musicians dream for a moment like this when they will touch the audience in such a deep level with their music. This has been undoubtedly one of the most favorite moments of my life.

I did not come to America looking for a better life or fortune. My goal to was to broaden my mind, learn about a different culture, get a better education, and cherish the wonderful landscapes of America. But boy oh boy what a journey it has been and, you know what, the things that I picked up on this journey were much much more than what I intended for – it's not wealth or fancy lifestyle, rather it's the taste of freedom, lessons to chase your dreams and know that you can achieve anything that you want, enjoy even the mundane moments of life and last but not the least be a better man. I'll be damned if I don't share this with you, dear readers. I dream that someday when I will be long gone, someone will pick up my book and read and burst into laughter, feel amazed by unexpected experiences and get lost into pondering about the answers of some eternal questions that I have. If I can touch even one of you such a way, my dream will come true. Dream on dream on ….

To be continued ...

This is how it began

Finally the engines were on and shortly after that our huge 777 Boeing was rolling towards the runway. A rush of adrenalin, a unique cocktail of sheer thrill and fear of the unknown, and random flight of few butterflies in my stomach - yup, this was sort of what I felt. The mixed feeling was so complex that it is beyond my skill in English to explain. Especially when you are not a native English speaker plus trying to remember and write what you exactly felt almost seven years ago - the job gets harder. So, bear with me my dear readers - fun is on the way. Oh! by the way I am sure, as of now, you have no idea of what I am talking about. Well, this was how my first trip to Uncle Sam's land started. Coming to America was never been a part of my plan, not that I really had a plan for my life anyway. Being an Indian - sorry have to stop now, be nosy and express my opinionated mind frankly. When I hear Americans call the native Americans as "Indians", it annoys me to my bone marrow. It was an unintentional mistake by Mr. Columbus (I guess it due to the combination of peer pressure from fellow explorers to find to exotic land of India combined with sea sickness and indulgence on rum). native Americans are "native Americans" not "Indians" just as "America" is not "India". I think it's the time to correct this epic historical mistake because you guys are pretty much calling the native American as Indians not from India which makes them basically fake Indians. Please show this age-old culture some true respect that they deserve. And I am not just writing this because I am going to marry an American girl who is partly native American- say what??!!! Indian dude marrying a white chic and not doing the arranged marriage thingy!! well, I will come to that in due time. Coming back to what I started - I thought I will let my life float on the tidal wave called "being Indian" which is as simple as - 1) getting and letting your ass kicked in school, college and millions of entrance exams 2) followed by a getting a job which you will hate yet most probably will do until retirement 3) getting hitched to a girl you barely met 4) followed by increasingly higher power of your glasses, getting tested with high blood sugar, high cholesterol but never doing real work out 5) having kids, dealing with their cough and cold, potty training, diarrhea leading to sleepless nights and high blood pressure 6) having heated discussion over India-Pakistan relationship with friends, gossiping about your neighbor's daughter 7) follow your kids life starting from 1) - all of the above oughtta be completed by the time you are 30 and onwards your kids life will be your life. Every moment will be dictated by a higher power, not the Almighty kinda higher power, but higher powers like your parent, aunts and uncles, and several other close to far relatives (some of them you never met and never heard of) and nosy-street-smart neighbours. Honestly it's a pretty safe scheme of life. You never have to think of what you want to do or never get confused about your next move or never have to be a grown-up matured adult although your childhood will be stolen by the time you are in kindergarten. There will always be a higher power to guide your life. Dear readers, you may call it being robotic, I call it "being Indian" - minimum risk factor, maximum laziness, side effect may include utter bitterness at the end of your life. Honestly, I had all my intention to be in that life-stream. But you know what they say - man proposes and America disposes. So here I am in Uncle Sam's land. To be continued .....