From: udcrusd@meaddata.com (Sylvia D'Cruz)
Subject: A passage from India
Organization: Mead Data Central, Dayton OH
Date: Tue, 8 Sep 1992 15:26:37 GMT
Distribution: soc.culture.indian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                         Copyright 1992 Southam Inc.
                             The Gazette (Montreal)

                   September  5, 1992, Saturday, FINAL EDITION

A passage from  India

BY T.R. ANAND; FREELANCE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    HAVING won an All India competition to study for a master's degree in
engineering at McGill University, I disembarked from the Queen Elizabeth at
Quebec City on Oct. 27, 1952, and proceeded by overnight train to Montreal.

   I arrived early the next morning. Where is McGill University, I asked
someone. A dollar's worth of taxi ride away. Surely just a horse coach would
be cheaper, as it was in New Delhi, where I came from? Strange - that would cost
$ 2.50. For 10 cents, I stored my metal trunk and walked to Sherbrooke St.

   I believe I was the first post-graduate engineering student from India at
McGill. The students' counsellor knew exactly where to send me to stay: the
Presbyterian College, the most reasonable place in town. I got an upper bunk for
$ 6 a week, saving a whole dollar by not taking the lower berth.

   Short of money, I walked around in the bitter cold wearing both a sweater and
a sport jacket. I was strongly advised to buy an overcoat.

   I walked into a store where a well-dressed employee seemed to have stopped at
the entrance with an outstretched hand. I shook his hand, only to discover it
belonged to a mannequin: one dummy greeting another. Anyway, buying an overcoat
and hat would deprive me of my entire $ 90, all the money I had before my
scholarship payments started. No sir, no thanks.

   In a couple of days, I found myself shivering and sweating with a Himalayan
headache. The student in the lower bunk, a minister in training, brought another
Indian to my sickbed. "Malaria," I told him.

   "No, brother," he said, "you have Canadian flu." He took my money and went to
a wholesaler to buy me an overcoat, a hat, ear muffs and overshoes. New country,
new diseases and a new way of dressing.

   Now, however, I couldn't afford meals. "Sell Christmas cards or wash dishes,"
I was told. I chose the lesser humiliation, buying cards by the box for 9 cents
each and selling them for 15 cents. I had to sell seven cards to earn 40 cents
for breakfast, nine cards for a 50-cent lunch and 10 cards for a 60-cent dinner.
Eventually the dean heard of my sideline and gave me a job marking
undergraduates' work for $ 50 a month.

   At Christmas, lonely and forlorn, I was invited by Professor Joe de Stein for
a Christmas dinner. De Stein advised me to attend the YMCA's Christmas dances. A
woman there was thrilled to have a real Indian visitor and invited me to attend
the dance the next day in my "native costume." I improvised a turban for the
occasion. That was not what she had in mind: "I meant plumes and feathers, like
our native Indians."

   However, she was nice. She wanted to teach me dancing. Awkward me: I kept
stepping on her dainty shoes.

   The McGill Post-Graduate Students' Society invited me to its Christmas party.
My eyes kept roving over a pretty woman until she sauntered over. Some pleasant
conversation ensued. She asked, "Where did you learn your English?" I felt very
self-conscious about my un-American pronunciation and walked away.

   Weeks later, in the university cafeteria, she greeted me again. I ventured to
ask why she had put that question to me. "Why? Because you speak so well." I
regretted my shyness, imagining all the fun I had missed during the holidays.

   A Mrs. Mulvany was holding a sale-cum-exposition of silks, ivory, embroidery
and fine goods from India. I volunteered to assist and she was happy to accept.
She decided to dress some Canadian girls in saris but did not know how. I
volunteered to dress them. "No thanks! We will find some lady," she said.
However, she cannily got me to act as a shopkeeper selling to these same women
in order to boost her sales.

   Through her I met a rich couple in Westmount named Wilder. They lent me $ 400
to bring over my wife, Kailash, with our first baby, Kishore, who had been born
shortly after my departure for Canada. "To put an end to my fantasies," they
told me. I was eventually able to get a job and repay them with thanks. Who
knows, they may have saved my marriage.

   I worked for Shawinigan Engineering in Montreal, and the company asked me to
stay on after graduating in 1954, but I was obliged to return to India under the
terms of my scholarship. However, Shawinigan said I was still welcome and so,
with the company's sponsorship, my family and I returned in 1956. I was among
the first Indians to immigrate to eastern Canada after World War II.

   We found integration and acceptance rather difficult and I went through a
long period of depression, soul-searching and struggle at work. My mind turned
to the teachings of Gandhi and Buddha, and I reread their works. I also joined
St. Joseph's Oratory to pray because there were virtually no Indian families,
and certainly no temples of our Hindu faith in those days.

   My three children grew up as westernized Indians, with their own particular
problems of acceptance. They adopted western ways and married into French,
Jewish and English families respectively.

   My wife and I now have grandchildren with roots in those three communities.
My nephews and my younger brother who immigrated later married Italian, German
and Quebecoise women. I certainly know all the pains of multicultural living,
the clash of what I had been taught in India with what is normal here in Canada.
But I know the pleasures, too. For example, each year, as Christmas and Hanukkah
approach, how I look forward to the different food and customs in the homes of
my sons and daughters-in-law.

   My social and professional struggles kept me awake nights and, over the
years, brought little personal fulfilment. However, in a small way they opened
the door for other people from India and Pakistan to get teaching jobs, to
preserve their cultures and languages, and so on. That has been a profound
satisfaction.

   * T.R. Anand, who worked as an engineer and consultant in Montreal, is now
retired.