His feet walk barefoot on the gray gravel of the streets of Dwarka, India. He feels the crumbs of the revelry of last night. Glancing down, he feels a ribbon slither in between his toes. The crunch of the badam seeds and peanuts graze the streets like they aren’t trash but have a special place on the cement. The walk to school is almost two miles. It becomes easier because he repeats the following significant sentences: The capital of New York is Albany, the capital of Illinois is Springfield, and the capital of Texas is Austin. This knowledge empowers him. And it is at this moment he realizes that he must escape the gravel, the barefoot existence, and he must travel from India to the United States.
# # #
No longer a young boy, he stands in line at the Indian visa office for his paperwork. These few sheets of crisp white eye him, while the government officer yells “Approved!,” not in his native tongue of Hindi, but in English. He wants to say, “Thank You,” but even though he forms the words in his head, he cannot make a sound. Grabbing the paperwork before the office changes his mind, he walks out the door and tries to plan his next step on how he will reach his final destination of America.
As a thirty-five year old man, he has made some friends who share his dream. One of his closest friends agrees to sponsor him and pay for his ticket to the United States. He converts all of the money he has saved. The total amount he carries with him as he boards the plane amounts to seven dollars.
# # #
I sit in my office as I drink my coffee. I overlook the sun’s horizon outside my window and the view the swirl of colors in the desert, pinks-blues-purples. The cactus spikes glow in the light, while the bouganvilla fuschia complement the gravel in the yard.
I reflect on my space and where I live. And how a young boy’s vision of coming to America gives meaning to my own existence.
I will never forget the power of those seven dollars that my father carried in his pocket.
Image by kayaker1204
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
What a powerful story! It reminds me of my father-in-law, who left a pregnant wife back in India with only one semester’s tuition in his pocket–nothing for room or board–and landed in the States with little but a dream.
That is amazing. I find their motivation and drive very inspiring.
Oh Rudri, I think thisis one of the most beautiful and powerful pieces you’ve written on here. This is a story your daughter will grow up to treasure.
Thanks for the generous compliment. It is a piece I know my father would want me to write.
This gave me goosebumps. Very powerful and beautifull written. Brave man.
Thanks Tiffany. Appreciate your words in my space. xoxo
Beautiful and remarkable.
I think it’s easy to forget that this country is filled with many other stories similar to this — and yet to have known someone who lived a success story leaves an indelible mark in our minds and hearts.
It is inspiring to know that many were like my father. Dream and few dollars in their hand – trying to make a better life for themselves and their children.
Very powerful indeed. I sometimes think of the real courage and bravery and sacrifice that others have made just to take a chance at something better in Life. And I wonder if I would have such traits myself. I feel so blessed, and so fortunate and yes – spoiled sometimes that I have not been in a position with only seven dollars in my pocket.
It’s humbling.
Humbling, indeed. I completely agree.
Rudri, my heart is touched by your father’s story. You make him proud to tell it in such a beautiful way.
Thanks so much friend. I know you get this. xoxo
In this lovely, simple, powerful story I find resonance with images of the grandfather I never knew making his way from Pogroms in Russia to Ellis Island to Chicago, selling fruit on the street and then in a store and then his own stores. An American dream with dark undercurrents of despair as well as triumph—and a sense of unity through diversity in this country we are fortunate to call home (even if it needs a little fixing up).
The stories of our ancestors are unbelievable. I often think about the sheer will they mustered to travel unchartered roads. And how much of the time they relied on inspiration and dreams to make it through the more challenging times. As always, a pleasure to see your words in my space.
I just can’t imagine. I really just can’t. What an amazing story of perseverance and fortitude. I know your dad would be proud to know he passed those qualities down to you, too, friend.
Thanks Stacia. I often think about how his resources to complete his journey came from within.
Seems not to be the power of seven dollars but the will power to make a better life. This is such a beautiful tribute to your father.
Thanks Cathy. You are right. The journey has more to do with his inner will. The seven dollars was just a means to achieve his goal. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Wow – what a great story. Such powerful imagery.
I, too, feel blessed for the life I have now for the dreams that my mom had for me. We are lucky aren’t we? 🙂
We certainly are. I sometimes think about how easy we have it compared to my parents. I am grateful to them for all the opportunities provided to me because of their perserverance.
What a legacy your father left for you. Strength, courage, determination, humility. I imagine you’ll be learning his lessons forever.
Yes. Lots of lessons. And it gives me comfort to know that, despite adversity and limited resources, you can triumph.
Rudri, It is very beautiful post. It touched my heart and brought tear to my eyes. Wherever your father maybe he is blessing you. Mom
Thanks Mom. Love you forever.
Such an incredible story. I, too, think of those in my family who came to this country more than 100 years ago, with nothing but their dreams and their work ethic.
Beautiful, Rudri.
Thanks Wolf. It is humbling how they achieved their dreams with very little at their disposal.