In the Hindu religion, it is believed that your troubles can be resolved by reciting certain types of prayers. I believed this wholeheartedly and resolved to follow the astrologer’s instruction.
“How will you complete this mantra on your own?” my father asked. “This is a very difficult undertaking. It takes an intense amount of focus and determination that is not simple for the average person.”
We consulted a pundit, a priest, who would repeat the mantra for a fee. The pundit and several other priests would say the mantra for several days and finish within the specified time. In addition to paying money, we would need to feed them breakfast and lunch. My father hesitated to spend so much money. In the end, I declared that I would say the mantra myself.
I calculated that it would take five minutes to say the mantra one-hundred-and-one times. I kept a record of the mantra count in a notebook, and I repeated it for six to eight hours a day. Toward the end, my sister-in-law helped me, and we completed all the repetitions in the required time frame. Afterwards, a pundit performed a completion ceremony for me, involving a large feast served to several pundits. The ceremony was considered Yag, meaning to feed the Brahmins and please our god, Paramatma.
One day, three Americans came to our village to work on an agricultural project. One of my classmates from primary school knew a little bit of English and had been conversing with these Americans using sign language as well. He knew I had lost my documents and was having difficulty obtaining them all again, so he told me I should speak to these Americans. Perhaps they would help me.
The next day, I spoke to them in broken English, explaining my situation and asking if they could help me. They wrote down my name and address, saying they would try their best.
To my surprise, two weeks later I received a letter in the mail, admitting me to the University of Tennessee for the following quarter in January 1962. With renewed vigor, I acquired the remaining documents in less time than it had taken before. I completed all the formalities by October and made arrangements through a Ludhiana travel agency to reach the US by sea. My journey would begin in Bombay on November 26, 1961. The ship would take me to Genoa on the coast of Italy, and then I would take a train to the French city of Calais. From there, a ferry would take me to the port, and then I would board a ferry to cross the English Channel to get to London. Finally, I would board one last ship, the SS United States.
My brother, Sat Pal, and my brother-in-law Krishan Chand accompanied me on the train ride all the way to Bombay. As we left the Ludhiana station, I sat with my face pressed to the window, watching my parents waving after me. My heart grew heavy at the distraught expression on my mother’s face. I wore the fragrant garland of marigold flowers around my neck that my parents had draped over me, and their gift of money, called a shagan, sat securely in my pocket. “May Paramatma keep you healthy and wealthy,” my mother had said as she placed it in my hands.
She also had prayed over me in Hindi, her words meaning, “May God keep you safe and happy.” Holding back tears, I had touched her feet to receive her blessings. The moment I boarded the train, I could not stop crying, thinking that I did not know if I would see my parents again.
Fifty people had come to see me off at the Malaudh bus stop just a few hours prior. There were shouts and a clamor of excitement as everyone hugged me, wished me well, and ushered me onto the bus with my two suitcases, an extremely heavy trunk, and a bistra bandh, filled with bedding my mother had insisted I bring with me.
At noon on November 26, I arrived at the port in Bombay to check in with my luggage. Ships lined the dock, and people swarmed around me. I moved off to the side to say goodbye to Sat Pal and Krishan. Then I fell in with the jostling crowd. Once on the ship, I stood on the upper deck and waved to Sat Pal and Krishan for the last time. At that moment it truly hit me: I was leaving India. This is it, I told myself. There is no turning back. Tears filled my eyes as the ship pulled away from Bombay’s port. An hour later, I could see nothing but water sparkling in the sun.
Chapter 3
The journey from Bombay to London took fourteen days. For another week, I stayed in a guest house in cold, foggy London before boarding the SS United States bound for New York. After six long days at sea, we approached land and sailed into the harbor. I joined the crowd flocking to claim their luggage. The man at customs asked me a question (perhaps about the contents of my luggage), but I couldn’t understand a single word. His pronunciation was remarkably different from the British accent I was accustomed to. I kept saying, “No, no,” and the man smiled understandingly. He motioned for me to open the large trunk and saw it was almost overflowing with lentils and pickles.
“Are you a student?” he asked, speaking slowly and clearly.
I understood him this time. “Yes,” I said proudly.
“What school are you attending?”
“The University of Tennessee.”
“Good school. Good luck.”
He approved my luggage, and two porters helped carry it away from customs. I stood by my luggage and waited for my cousin in the icy December air. The frigid ocean breeze blew right through me. I pulled
