Plastic on a Lampshade

“Why would you shave your head in winter?” asked a colleague. “That’s not trendy,” he said. I responded politely, “Tonsure is also a time-honored Hindu tradition, a symbolic offering of grief for departed souls. My mother died yesterday.”

In this insightful non-fictional narrative, 'Plastic on a Lampshade' beckons you to explore the unique immigrant experience in America through a journey rich with humor, poignancy, and introspection. Discover insightful reflections that serve as a poignant reminder of life's journey, urging you to embrace the present fully. Join us on this enlightening exploration that connects the author's personal experiences with the universal themes of cultural assimilation, familial sacrifice, and personal growth.

Published in January 2023

1. Opportunities and
 Hardships

It’s time for takeoff. There were groups of young adults who boarded our flight. They are headed to colleges and universities across the US. These students are among the many who have attempted and succeeded in undertaking this journey of a lifetime.

Forty minutes ago, a gate agent announced the boarding procedure for our flight and added:

“Please remain seated until your row is called.”

As Indians, we jumped from our seats to form a line at the departure gate despite the announcement. The students in line barely noticed their large backpacks annoyed people behind them as they shuffled to board the flight.

On the flight, the students watched movies on the in-flight entertainment system. Some fell asleep. A few window shades remained up throughout the flight, but neither the glaring light nor the cramped airline seats bothered the students.

While the students watched a drama unfold on a small screen or rested, they were distracted from the realities that lay ahead.

2. Welcoming and 
Piqued

Several years ago I embarked on a similar journey to the US. On the second leg of my flight from London to New York, a middle-aged man from India sitting beside me asked if I planned to eat the chapatis [unleavened flatbread] wrapped in cling film on my meal tray. As soon as I told him I was not hungry, he reached across and grabbed the chapatis. I was stupefied. On the last leg of my flight from New York to Chicago, I was sitting next to a beefy man who talked all about his hernia. For 2.5 hours, I listened intently to avoid appearing rude to an American.

*

The International Student Office on campus was welcoming. They want you to rely on official information and not what your friends are sharing. Regulations and rules change over time. After completing their health-related paperwork, students can register for classes.

“Go north up the ramp. When you get to the glass building, go downstairs to the Bursar Office.”

When I arrived in the US, I was not used to cardinal directions. Directions in India were in the form of a large tree or a specific store as a landmark, a right there and a left here, while being encouraged to go straight on a winding road to reach a destination.

In my quest to find my way north to the Bursar Office, I hoped for the sun to shine as I stepped out of the Campus Health Office.

*

My American host family was welcoming and kind. Using an atlas, we viewed a map of India. When asked where I was born, where I went to school, and where I attended college, I indicated them all.

During the third week of my stay in the US, an Indian-American family invited me to lunch. Several questions were posed to me. As I sat in their living room, I looked around. A lampshade wrapped in plastic caught my attention. My curiosity was piqued.

3. The Quest

The quest to make it to America begins during college for most immigrants from India. Increasingly, middle school students are aspiring to enroll in American colleges—some for the sake of enriching their knowledge, others for economic purposes.

“Why has he moved so far away to get a BA degree? What can an MA degree be used for?”

These questions were repeatedly posed to my parents when I left home to pursue higher studies. Despite their apparent fairness in the questions, the implication for India was why a parent would send their child so far from home, while incurring high costs, to study the humanities rather than medicine or engineering.

*

Student life for international students in the US differs from being a student at a small liberal arts college or a big public or private university. There can be 1,350 students at the former and 5,000 to 35,000 at the latter. An introductory class at a liberal arts college may have 17 students, while one at a larger university may have 200. At liberal arts colleges, faculty teach most courses, while at universities, graduate assistants teach certain introductory courses.

Despite the fact that international students are keen on college and university rankings, they may not be aware that not all program offerings at these institutions are equally recognized. Additionally, few research enrollment profiles of academic institutions or postgraduate student profiles, but these are crucial to making informed decisions. An enrollment decision should not be based on rankings.

There are a number of future students who rely on a placement agency in India to direct them to American universities with higher admission rates along with lower tuition costs. It is not uncommon for students to consult their seniors about visa interview questions and easy university courses. The visa application process can be lengthy, involved, and expensive. While the entire process is challenging, the opportunities ahead outweigh the challenges.

The US Customs and Immigration process can be stressful for these incoming international students from India. However, friends have advised them how to respond to questions, just as they were advised how to respond to an American Consulate official.

It has become increasingly difficult and competitive to immigrate to the US from India on a work visa. Therefore, higher education is the next viable option. For many Indian international students, a master’s program at a university is a step toward obtaining a Green Card. It allows them to proceed towards a lengthy citizenship process.

Those with professional experience in software development or a medical degree will enroll in computer science and public health programs, respectively. As a result, they are able to pursue their immigration goals. Therefore, an immersive campus experience is not the goal. Consequently, both the student and the academic institution miss out on an enriching immersive experience that has immense value in terms of cultural enrichment and educational growth.

4. Individuals and
 Institutions

Unlike many international students, I chose not to shorten my name to make it easier to pronounce. In addition, I did not use an Anglicized name.

“Hi, I am Bee.”
“I am Cee.”

Two Thai students were introduced to me through a program of international student orientation. In our conversation, I learned that their names were the alphabets B and C, which were assigned to them by their remedial English instructor. The purpose of this was to associate faces with names. It is draconian to take away personal identity and individuality from international students who live thousands of miles away from home. It will be outrageous under the current campus climate.

Although international students may seem to have fantastic opportunities during their academic years, institutional authorities rarely recognize their unique struggles. Institutions strive to create a welcoming environment. However, academic institutions are not responsible for providing full-time mental health support to young adults.

It is common for new international students to seek out peers from their own countries for several reasons. In addition to affinity, language can also play a role. Speaking fluently is a different skill set than passing standardized English tests for enrollment. Preconceived notions about American students can discourage friendships across the aisle. It is not unusual for these situations to repeat when one begins working professionally in the US. The process of immigrating does not necessarily lead to assimilation.

An international student must provide proof of funding for the duration of their academic program during the visa application process. While some international students are offered assistantships or scholarships, others find part-time jobs on campus. Many hope to obtain financial support once they arrive on campus but are left without any form of income.

International students are concerned about their future employment from the moment they begin a degree program. As students progress through the introductory levels, their coursework becomes increasingly challenging. The repayment of educational loans begins after a student completes his program, which may force some students to work illegally off-campus. There are some international students who break other rules and get in trouble with immigration authorities. There is a tendency to view that particular student body on campus with the same set of preconceived notions, rather than as individuals. While some learn and adapt to these challenges, others have a hard time doing so. The combination of financial obligations and mental health stress in a competitive academic environment is a unique type of stress. These students are disproportionally at risk of depression and suicide.

5. Change is Beautiful

When I arrived in the US, I was fortunate to have had friends from college who helped me navigate the American education system.

The experience of attending an American university was exhilarating. The time flew by. Friends graduated and we relocated for jobs, but we maintained our friendship remotely.

Friendships can be rewarding relationships in our lives. While my friends were amiable and caring, I was outspoken and stubborn. Marriage and family responsibilities began to take the spotlight, as they should. However, the support and guidance I received from my friends did not waver.

The nature of our friendship changed as we grew older. Some friendships were strengthened based on proximity, affinity, and usefulness. I observed several changes in my friends’ mindsets as time went on and speculated that new wealth played a role in the change. The friendship began to have a transactional quality and lost its honesty as a result. I gradually drifted apart. My mind drifted back to Sarojini Naidu’s poem, Life:

Till ye have battled with great grief and fears,
And borne the conflict of dream-shattering years,

Wounded with fierce desire and worn with strife,

Children, ye have not lived: for this is life.

It took time for me to adjust to the use of the term “friend” in the US in a more general sense. It was common for everyone to have several friends and to become friends with them soon after meeting someone. The concept of friendship has been further muddied by digital social networks.

Making friends as an adult in the US was intricate and challenging, more so as a person of color. Being introverted exacerbated this complexity. The development of meaningful friendships requires time as well. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics helped me navigate new friendships from the perspective of being utilitarian, incidental, or pleasure-oriented.

So many people from my past know a version of me that does not exist anymore. Change is beautiful.

My time in the US was memorable because of the new friendships I made. These American friends welcomed me into their homes and cared for me in my pursuits.

My professional career was greatly influenced by Bob’s advice. I was guided in the right direction by Larry and Sherry in order to accomplish my career goals. The unwavering support of Alex was the beginning of my professional journey. Ed put his trust in my team and let me take the initiative.

Sherry was a cherished friend. Shannon appeared as rays of sun shining through trees on a crisp foggy morning. Bill was the Zen Master. Dennis’ actions demonstrated altruism. Donna’s laughter filled me with such delight. A lifetime experience was made possible by Jerry’s guidance. Deb and Monica were sincere and dependable colleagues. Martin was a trusted friend who was generous with his friendship. I am grateful beyond words for Brad’s unwavering patience. Dan and I did not ‘break bread together’ nor ‘ate salt together’ but our friendship was based on virtue.

During my times with Roy and JoAnn, we went on bicycle rides, ate a variety of cuisines in a small midwestern city and deliberated on world affairs.

Larry and Marilyn opened their hearts and gave me a home. They have seen it all—ranging from my gobbling sumptuous meals at their home to doing my laundry to filling their home with scents of Indian spices that lingered for days to letting out a barely audible squeaky emission of digestive gas at the dining table with guests around. Larry did not want to embarrass me by saying, “Welcome to the family.” The guests were gracious and overlooked it, but I never heard the end of it from Larry and Marilyn. The two of them are adorable. Without Larry and Marilyn, I would not have had the opportunity to experience Americana and everything American. I am grateful to them for everything they have done.

Life is short. I treasured every moment I spent with my friends.

6. Work Experiences

Working on campus while being a full-time student is possible with a work permit. International students can work the stipulated number of hours per week. The salary from an on-campus job might seem paltry, but the experience can be rewarding.

My experience as a graduate assistant helped me prepare for my next career goal. My mentor and supervisor helped me work through real-world scenarios. Learning how to support my peers and faculty inside the classroom allowed me to gain confidence in a role incorporating pedagogy and technology.

“Do you want to help paint my house this weekend? I’ll buy pizza.” 

Although I knew the woman worked on campus, I had never met her. As a result, I found it odd that she asked me to paint her house for pizza. I declined politely.

*

Obtaining a US work permit as a professional requires sponsorship by a company. Many US companies state on their recruitment websites that sponsorship is not available. This contributed to the growth of consulting companies that scrupulously employed newly graduated Indian students in the US.

Race plays a significant role in the American workplace. Unlike all-American boys, people of color must prove themselves repeatedly. Even if you were born in the US, a person of color is an immigrant. The nuance of this status does not change.

Having the opportunity to work in the US was among the most enjoyable experiences of my life. In a brand-new environment, I was welcomed by highly experienced and knowledgeable colleagues. I liked to ask questions and listen. These conversations led to new projects, new friendships, and wholesome professional experiences.

On the flip side, the Chancellor’s Academic Professional Excellence Award left me incoherent during my speech. No thought of winning crossed my mind. In fact, I forgot about the event until I was reminded the day before, so if I were chosen, I joked about thanking my mother and agent.

The US would always be my first choice as a professional destination. I led teams of students and professionals who were reliable and brilliant. I had the privilege of implementing several novel ideas and concepts, including accessibility and institution-wide effectiveness standards. In spite of what you read or hear about working conditions in the US, there is room for personal growth and respect for individuals.

During a yearly performance evaluation early in my professional career, my supervisor criticized me for being impatient and unwilling to accept the status quo. That was an accurate assessment of my professional life, and I am proud of it.

My passions led me to follow my heart.

7. Let The Music Play

During my residency in the US, being able to hear a band of musicians play in a small midwestern town park brought me joy.

There were strollers in the park, parents and children on picnic blankets, grandparents on lawn chairs enjoying the music together. Family and friends came to support the performers; parents came to support their children; grandparents came to watch their grandkids perform. People were drawn to the band’s performance since they care and want to be participants in a community effort as performers or audience members.

Band musicians are volunteers who practice and prepare for concerts. Musicians get to participate in an effort that entertains the community. In a lively setting, students were able to showcase their skills in front of an audience. Others took advantage of this opportunity to play an instrument they may have tucked away since high school or college.

It was my pleasure to be able to attend a practice session of the RGV Concert Band as a guest of a Winter Texan. Members of the band were on average 65 years old. Among them are retired dietitians, nurse practitioners, teachers, pilots, clergy, and so forth. On Saturdays, practice began at 9:00 a.m. and ended at 11:30 a.m.

The band performed excellently on the concert day. Between musical selections, the audience clapped enthusiastically. Several thoughts crossed my mind as I listened:

• Here are people from different backgrounds, different states, and even different countries. Despite this, music unites them.

• Every Saturday morning, this group practices music without expecting anything in return. Their performances are sure to be exciting for them. Regardless, I strongly believe that they are united by their love of music.

• Here are a group of individuals who dusted off their instruments and gave them another shot.

There is a sense of purpose at the core of all these aspects. A purpose one has come back to after retiring from helicopter piloting, rushing through hospital wards as a nurse, retiring after teaching a group of highly energetic teenagers at a high school, etc.

The following questions came to mind:

1. Why would a country like the US want to eliminate the arts from its schools?

2. Why would a country like the US take away from a child in school the opportunity of learning a lifelong skill, who in the years to come might enjoy playing in a community music band with a distinct purpose of her own?

In light of the setbacks in music and arts education, community bands, music education, and the revival of art-based community activities need to be examined. Students with community service are often sought by colleges and universities. Participation in community bands during middle and high school may qualify students for scholarships. Perchance the opportunity to participate at a community band will have a lifelong impact on a young adult, given the association with other more mature musicians.

From my perspective, a community band performing a concert on a sultry summer evening to an eager audience represents the real America that I admire. It was and continues to be my hope that this traditional entertainment form will continue to serve a community for many years to come. This art form must not be lost in the US.

8. Mistaken Identities

A frosty morning in the Midwest greeted me as I walked across the parking lot to my office. As I listened to a voice at a distance, I wondered if someone was calling out for help. I looked to the sides but did not see anyone. Turning around, I saw a woman waving at me. I thought I heard her shout, “Congratulations!” She was enthusiastic.

There was ice on the ground, making walking difficult. The woman caught up with me as I waited. When we stood close, she swayed from side to side with her arms upright and exclaimed: 

“Congratulations! I heard the good news. Congratulations on the baby!”

The past few months of my life flew by in a flash. “Is this happening to me?” I wondered. I suddenly realized what was happening and said, “Thanks, but that’s not me. The tech department employee had a baby.”

*

For a year, I lived in a townhouse. My neighbor was a woman who dressed provocatively, and I remember telling myself, “Good for you, girl. You enjoy being who you are.”

On a summer evening while awaiting her boyfriend, I met my neighbor sipping wine on the steps. They should have a pleasant evening together, I wished her.

After a few days, I noticed my neighbor painting in her garage, drinking wine, and sobbing. As I checked my mailbox by the curb, I glanced at my neighbor’s easel from a distance. Her sobbing made me think that her painting had moved her. When she saw me, she began to wail and pointed the paintbrush at me as she exclaimed: 

“My boyfriend dumped me!”

An elderly couple followed two elderly women on their evening walk. Observing the scene, they looked disapprovingly at me. It was surreal—a wailing woman wearing a provocative dress, her paintbrush pointed towards a man and announcing her boyfriend had dumped her. The people on their evening walk probably did not think much of the “Mexican” boyfriend, who stood a few feet from his former girlfriend.

No, I was not her boyfriend. Yes, most people thought I was Mexican.

*

I used to tell colleagues at work that people on campus thought I was a person in the tech department and called me by his name. Some laughed and some did not believe me.

Four of my colleagues and I were walking to the cafeteria one day. A couple of people passing by on the sidewalk said the same thing simultaneously:

“Congratulations on your promotion!”

That day, the tech department employee received a promotion.

My colleagues looked puzzled as they could not believe what had happened. I had informed my colleagues on several occasions that this was a widespread perception on campus. Considering they were perplexed, did they think I was making all this up? Was this an indication that they were less trusting of me as a person of color or as an immigrant?

9. Responsibility and Representation

Flashing lights on police cars always made me nervous, and it is a relief when they pass my car and drive ahead. I was once pulled over by police in a small town for not stopping for pedestrian traffic. I politely inquired who was at fault—me not stopping for those pedestrians or those pedestrians about to get off the sidewalk on the other side of a two-lane street and intending to jaywalk because there was no marked pedestrian crossing on the street. The police officer let me go and did not issue a warning or ticket. As I drove off I wondered if I was pulled over because I was a person of color.

*

I once stood in line at a bank to drop off a check for a few thousand dollars. The teller inquired where I got the money. The check was in my name from another bank, which I deposited at a bank where I maintained an account. I asked the teller if that is something I had to disclose to deposit a bank check in my name into my account. A nervous laugh escaped her lips. I wondered if she suspected how a “Mexican” ended up with a few thousand dollars.

*

At store checkout counters, cashiers routinely ask if you found everything you were looking for. On the odd occasion they would not extend this courtesy to me but would have done it for the person ahead of me, who happened to be fair-skinned. I would then smile and say, “How is your day today, Kaylee?” [They always wore a name badge.] From then on Kaylee would have a pleasant exchange during the checkout process. It was my goal to ensure that in the future, everyone would be treated equally. My intention was to dispel a stereotype.

*

Obtaining TSA PreCheck ended my “random selection” security checks at airports. I felt relieved. However, I was now invariably asked if I had a TSA PreCheck while waiting in that line. The fair-skinned individuals waiting behind and in front of me were not asked the same question. I never made any effort to create a teaching moment during an airport screening process because as a person of color I did not want to generate unwelcome interventions.

10. On Travels

Visiting the US is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for many. Being able to spend over two decades in the beautiful land was a blessing for me. My impression of the country was influenced by its sights and sounds, friendly people, entertainment, shopping, and much more. I fell in love with the US and hope to be able to return someday.

Americans are polite, outgoing, and friendly. It is advisable not to ask them personal questions right away. Be respectful of people’s space. Do not touch anyone, including pets. It is wise to stay away from politics as Americans feel strongly about their political parties and elected officials.

It never made sense to me why Americans complained about hot or cold weather — their cars, homes, and offices have air conditioning.

Everything in the US is big, including serving plates, meal portions, houses, supermarkets, cars, and roads. It is common for Americans to hold coffee cups as they go about their day, but I rarely saw them sip their coffee.

The US must be experienced, not seen through a camera lens.

Winter in the Midwest was my favorite time of year. It reminded me of Fog by Carl Sandberg:

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

I explored a wide range of experiences and activities in the US—ranging from several thousand-mile road trips by car to completing a 45-mile day-use bike trail in a day to the summit of Baxter Peak in Maine to canoeing under darkness at a bioluminescent bay in Puerto Rico to offering a prayer at Alcove House in New Mexico to the splendor of US National Parks, and much more.

During my travels, I noticed a number of accidental juxtapositions. As examples:

• I remembered watching MTV in India while observing the black plastic bags on the US-side of the River Rio Grande bordering Mexico. In reference to the river “from mountains in the north down to the Rio Grande,” the song Rio by Duran Duran suggests making it in America, the glamor of Rio, Brazil, and the band members as international superstars. The black plastic bags, on the other hand, implied illegal and risky border crossings for a better life in America. However, undocumented immigrants often face backbreaking work, low wages, and a lack of public benefits except emergency health services.

• After crossing Beaver Pond, I followed a mile-long trail through woods and over the Middlebury River into a forest in Vermont. As I recalled sitting in a 10th grade classroom reading a poem under a slow-moving ceiling fan on a summer afternoon, I imagined what inspired Robert Lee Frost to write:

And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

• On a crisp fall afternoon, I relaxed by a lighthouse along the coastline of DownEast Maine and remembered my first read from 9th grade of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, The Arrow and The Song. Little did I know then that several years later I would be walking through the Wadsworth-Longfellow House in Portland. It was sublime when life made such interconnections during my travels.

As a traveler, I became drawn to quieter locales in the US. The big cities attracted me when I first set out as a tourist, and I continued to explore the big cities to discover hidden gems. But, as William Least Heat-Moon said: 

“I like the digressive kind of traveling, where there’s not a particular, set, goal.”

11. Purpose and
 Meaning

As we entered the house of an Indian-American family, the man said, “Remove your shoes and walk on this,” he said while pointing to a rigid clear plastic that lay over certain areas of the beige, textured, nylon carpeting in the living room.

The house felt less warm than expected on a bleak winter's day. The living room was devoid of any decorations, except for a burnished gold picture frame that displayed the owner’s engineering degree certificate. The sofa set was covered with old bedsheets, but no pets were present.

I noticed that the window frames were covered in plastic. I learned later that plastic window wraps helped retain heat during winter. The rigid clear plastic was used to preserve the carpeting in certain areas of high traffic.

One breast-like ceiling light shone from a rectangular living room’s popcorn ceiling. In a darker corner, a table lamp with a plastic covering on the lampshade caught my attention. I was unsure what to make of it.

A week later at a big-box store, I was drawn into rows and rows of aisles as though I were navigating a labyrinth without any fear of Minotaurs, but commercial products vying for my attention in cleverly designed displays meant to delay my journey. I was amazed by the size of the store, as well as the inventory, the layout, the cleanliness, and the way everyone worked. It appeared to me that Americans love to chat in grocery stores while blocking an aisle.

During my exploration of the store, I came across an aisle with light fixtures. A few steps down was a section for lampshades. They were all wrapped in plastic. This was a poignant moment that would live with me for the rest of my stay in the US.

“Attention: All customers from the University. Shuttle departs in 15 minutes.”

There were fifteen minutes left before the campus shuttle left, and my grocery shopping was incomplete. I spun my cart around and sped through my purchases. The windchill made me shiver as I stepped outside the store’s sliding doors. I learned that a bulky winter jacket is not necessarily a warmth-inducing piece of clothing.

On the way back to campus the scenery outside was a blur as my mind focused on the family I had visited and their lampshade wrapped in plastic. I thought of an immigrant’s struggle in a far-off foreign land—challenges of raising a family, income and sustenance, sacrifices made along the way, and a sense of security in preserving the lampshade with its plastic wrapping on it.

This was not the American Dream I wanted for myself. I wanted my lamp to shine the way it was meant to—now, without a plastic wrapping and not some day in the uncertain future.

12. Hopes and Costs

A phone call for a life-changing event may seem remote when leaving India for higher education or work abroad. It is an exciting time for a young adult as she looks forward to her life abroad, drenched in the excitement and fervor that lies ahead.

“How expensive is it to study in the US?”

As I explained to my cousin in India, there are both monetary and personal costs. It is possible to manage and arrange monetary costs. Personal costs do not allow the same latitude. Personal costs are not related to housing or clothing, but life choices. This cost seldom comes up during the evaluative stages of deciding whether and when to move overseas for higher studies or work.

Indian immigrants’ stories can begin with higher education overseas, followed by employment, marriage, and parenthood. When both spouses work, grandparents from India are invited to help rear a newborn in a nuclear family. Once in the US, it is common for grandparents to spend long hours alone caring for their grandchildren, with the occasional outing during the weekend. Grandparents are dependent on their children because mobility is limited—lack of an international driver’s license, non-availability of a spare vehicle, lack of public transportation, limited knowledge of the language, and so on. Grandparents live in the US but they are living within the confines of a physically and culturally finite space.

As children grow, their commitments to school and after-school activities increase. During winter break or summer holidays, parents want their children to explore places their classmates visit. Parents do not want their children to feel left out.

As grandparents age, their visits become less frequent. Parents try to find ways to arrange vacation times so that a visit to the grandparents in a distant land becomes feasible. Infeasible or happens every 2-3 years. American roots and commitments begin to take precedence, and this is inevitable. A physical visit is supplemented by scheduled virtual visits with grandparents overseas.

There comes a phone call informing a grandparent is ill and has been admitted to the hospital. A struggle ensues — visiting the hospitalized grandparent, requesting time off from work, making commitments at home, etc. A visit happens for some. Seeing their own child improves the grandparent’s well-being. After the grandparent is released from the hospital, arrangements are made to make life as comfortable as possible for her. Returning home is inevitable as vacation time expires. The question of what home is begins to arise.

Another overseas phone call informs a grandparent is taking her last breath. In my case, as my mother drew her last breaths, I was unable to receive a call.

My mother died peacefully, and her final rites were performed by my sisters.

“Why would you shave your head in winter?” asked a colleague. “That’s not trendy,” he said. I responded politely, “Tonsure is also a time-honored Hindu tradition, a symbolic offering of grief for departed souls. My mother died yesterday.”

Several years later, as my father was taking his final breaths, I parked my car on the side of the road and turned the hazard lights on. As my sister held the phone to my father’s ear, I said to him:

“Hello Papa, I am doing well and on my way to work. You don’t worry about us at all. We will all be fine. Thank you for everything. Don’t worry about us at all. Take care, Papa. Love you.”

It was a lie. I was not doing well. Who does, when one is saying the last words to a beloved parent taking his final breaths? Everyone is heartbroken by this. This is a personal cost an immigrant has to bear but had seldom planned for—the cost of being in a distant land while a parent takes her or his last breath. It is not easy to lose a loved one, no matter how much you prepare yourself for it. After the funeral rites, life is rarely the same. I asked myself, having lost both parents, am I an orphan? 

During this timeline of life, immigrant parents often talk about returning home to India. Easier said than done. The children are establishing their roots in the US and shaping identities. Parents do not want to destroy this growth. Life repeats itself in the US as the children leave for college, for a job, and soon have their own families to tend to.

Upon retirement, some immigrant parents spend the winter months in India and the summer months in the US. In their older years, long-haul flights take a toll on their physical strength. The number of visits to India decreases. With old age and frailty in the US comes the dawning of a life one was unaccustomed to while growing up in India.

A few return to India in old age to live out their remaining years. Some face life in the US without a spouse who passed away while planning to live happily ever after in India upon retirement. 

Others preserve the plastic on a lampshade while the inevitable reality of life awaits.