From India to America – “An Engineer’s Journey” (Part II)

The Sting

My name is Sandeep Kumar. My friend, Vimal, continued his story, telling me that, “I fell in love in the early ’90s. Priyanka Batra was her name. She was very hard to read, and although I had plenty of girls vying for my attention, Priya was the one I wanted. You lose part of your culture in America. I mean, me and my brothers barely spoke Gujarati. My parents were trying to raise us with beliefs and customs instituted in India, but not in America.

“We respected our parents, so we did as we were told. I tried to talk to Baba about arranging a meeting with Priya’s family, but he wouldn’t budge. I walked into the kitchen one hot summer, where he was consumed with making my mother Khaman Dhokla. Khaman is a savory steamed cake made from gram flour.

“‘Baba, last week it was khandvi, and the week before that Alu Vadi. You want to open a restaurant or what?”

“Vimal,” he told me, “this is about your mum. She has me on the American punishment. This is when the man has made a mistake and has to find inventive ways to fix it. So me, I make Indian cuisine. You should probably learn to cook or find yourself a talent if you plan on living here forever. Baba stopped and threw his cooking gloves on the counter. Who is she?”

“‘I told you she is Priya.’

“‘So you really want to be stuck in the kitchen making Khaman Dhokla? Fine, I’ll talk to her parents,’ and talk to her parents he did.

“Sandeep,” Vimal said to me, “he talked to her father, but she didn’t like me. She wasn’t interested in me, and that hurt me for a while. But my father got me an internship at eMazzanti Technologies. I am so grateful to be here. I am now the CISO, and based on the time, you can see I value my work.”

I asked Vimal to talk about his mummy.

“My mummy was very beautiful,” he recalled. “She came from a very wealthy family, and her family did not approve of her marriage to my father. Although they don’t talk about it, I sometimes can see the pain in his eyes from that. The move to Bolton, England was my father’s way of ensuring my future, something I do not take lightly.”

We fist-pumped one another and simultaneously said, ‘To family.’

“Did you finish college?” I asked.

“Yes, I finished college. I worked my butt off while I interned. I am a computer engineer.”

He continued, bobbling his head side -to-side “The company I mentioned earlier, eMazzanti Technologies advocates learning, and not just for their engineers.  eMazzanti is intense about ensuring that their clients understand how technology works. Take, for instance, our Master classes.  Anybody can register for one; and not only that, we have a Resource Library to help people get a more comprehensive view of the services offered.  In addition, we give away TWO FREE hours of consulting time. That same encouragement to learn more is passed on internally, and I have taken full advantage of it. People give only what has ever been given to them.  If you find someone who does the opposite without having received,that person special. When you see me out late like this, I am giving back, and I’m happy about it.”.

“Where are your parents now?” I interjected.

“My mum died of cancer two years ago and my father is currently dying of kidney failure.”

“What are your fondest memories of your mum?” I asked.

“My fondest moment would have to be in her last days of life. She hung new curtains, washed everybody’s clothes, and fed us all with stage four cancer, and nobody knew she had it,” he said, sliding back in his seat to cross his legs. “But when she volunteered for my eighth-grade graduation committee, I was a little embarrassed.”

“Why, man?”

“Because my mother still wore sarees and slides with socks,” Vimal said. “She refused to allow American customs to creep into her closet.’

“At the committee meeting, you could hear the song, ‘Billy Jean is not my lover’ all the way in the parking lot. My mother had arrived earlier and felt that it was in her best interest to shake the place up with her Mughlai chicken. In her mind, American children ate too much McDonald’s. When I entered the gym, I was shocked to find my mother moonwalking in her socks. I couldn’t believe it.”

He smiled. “Mummy!” I called. “Mummy, hi! She had kids taking off their shoes. Rajesh  hadn’t even given her a full dance lesson! How is she now teaching other kids how to dance like Michael Jackson, and in a saree! I ran as fast as I could to the pay phone to call Baba. ‘Baba!’ I said, ’Mum is ready to go!’ Those words will forever stick in my mind. As I stood in my mum’s hospital room, she lay in the bed in her saree, refusing the hospital gown, still with socks and Havaianas flip-flops on.”

Vimal teared up a bit. “Ma?” I called out to her. “She opened her eyes, and said, ‘Vimal. Help me up. I must use the lavatory.’. She slowly walked into the bathroom, and when she came out, she looked up in my face and smiled. She hugged me and then she said, ’Billy Jean is not my lover, she’s just a girl…’ and at that moment, I was compelled to dance with her, and we did. And that day was the end of her life.’”

Vimal looked off into the distance. “She was cremated 24 hours later, as is custom. My father is strong, but now he is weak, and I am doing all I can to give him my love. We immigrated from India to England and from England to America. I am American. America is my home. eMazzanti Technologies is my company, and I would dare not have it any other way. I am Vimal Patel.”

I sat with tears, staring at him as he smiled. “Brother, you are amazing,” I thought.  “We value people more when we truly know them.”