Tomorrow is the
payday. Every payday I see people so excited, the gloominess of their faces
turns white, whiter than their skin, they walk around happy, collect money and order
a big delivery from a expensive restaurant nearby. Just for a day or two they
dance and sing from their heart, and it reminds me of a newborn goat lamb which
jumps sideways in excitement, with its long ears so thrilled in the air. Alas! it is
short lived, next Monday the same co-workers will be asking me 'gas money'. I can't
help to feel bad, it is innate in me. Seriously, does compassion has any limit
and irresponsibility has any boundaries? What kind of society, government,
culture and family standards we boast by living here in America. I put myself
in one side of the scale, and them Native (not Indians)Americans in other. I am
always in survival mode. In all my actions, my behaviors, my conversations, I
present my honestly, and expect more often than not, unconsciously or in vain sometime, that something better will happen, I have done my
best with my available tools, my knowledge; with my labor, I have tried to reap the fruit
produced. Their mode is survival mode too, but of different kind. They don't know any better.
They have not seen both banks of the river. Has anyone ever noticed why vending
machine technology would be extraneous in Nepal, India and any such countries?
Here, people have a dollar in pocket, they immediately run to a vending machine
and buy a candy. If a quarter is saved, they go ask their coworker if they have
another so they can get a mountain dew from it.
Because in Rome,
we do as the Romans do, and I am afraid that I am so becoming like them. I call
my routine '5-2' these days. Five days
work, 2 days off, wait for Friday, feel like dying on Monday, count till payday
only to spend all of it on hundred of ridiculous bills, fighting in court,
paying for water than I didn't drink, giving in my hard earned money for
criminals in constipated jails to have them conjugal visits, fighting frauds with credit card companies,
scared of daylight robbery, absolutely dumb fold, numb and unconscious that years and years have passed
by with no progress, but with more bald spots and more gray hairs.
Every off days I
have tons of things to do, including, what I mentioned, unnecessary arguments
with credit cards, car dealers, banks, insurance companies, replying to emails
of cell phones and laptops demanding best friends and cousins in Nepal, playing
FIFA on a slow internet, reevaluating
the greates books, reading Bible and such to find the unfindables; and worst of all talking with stupid nurses
when at work covering for someone else. Ahh life! what have I become?
When I came to
USA, I had energy. I had dreams, although it was so forced on my mind by
parents and the society. My thoughts and aspirations, aim of life was just to
BECOME better than few privileged cousins, or in somewhat self respected quote,
I can say- to avoid them and to stop
them to consider me as a competitor, I was/am/will be never interested. Coming
to America was an escape from thugs, stupid competitions, Maoist terrorist, Nepal's bribery-full,
uncontrolled political system, hopeless and incurable poverty . I sure expected
US to be a land of opportunity, a hope for the dreamers.
To flashback and
remember and to be bluntly honest to myself, I have to admit: in 2005 in Waverly,
Iowa Walmart, we went to buy phone cards to call home to tell them that we have
arrived at the land of hope, in pursuit of happiness and freedom. I was so
excited, for a new journey had begun; and I was like a new- born goat lamb
jumping around sideways with its ears thrilled up in the air. But my heart got
a freezing wave of cold air when I looked at the faces of customers crowded in the Walmart
super center. It was my first and I can insist now, a true impression of American-
fat, unwelcoming, hating, if not hating on face, skeptical about foreigners, sad in the face,
tired as if they have ploughed acres of
farms all day, briefly smiling on eye contact but so fake as crocodile tears,
even the brightest of lights in hundred suns in Times Square could not lighten
up the gloominess, laziness, tiredness so expressed in their conversation, their melancholic sighs in the counter, their
boredom of fake smiles, their indifferences towards naked women on the cover pages of of the sex magazines, their unplayfulness towards the demand of candies and dolls of their
own children, and their dead-like body language; I question for a while if I was
in a Zombie land, or was I dreaming from a tiring long flight? Their sorry
faces nowhere directly or indirectly indicated any signs of happiness,
peace, freedom, love, compassion, humility, respectively, curiosity in
stranger, love for life or quest about
it, but sung a dark heartbreaking song like a sorrowful
owl howling at distant, in a wintery night.
Never did I know, that one day I
will be like them, dead in the spirit, tired in the body, unconscious of time, unaware
of the real goal of life, lost in unknown and unattainable dreams of happiness and peace. I was shocked that day to find my much anticipated 'America' that sad and tired, and unaware of the rest
of the world. Now I console myself these days that I have to seriously revisit
my decision to stay and be firm about whether or not to extend my survival mode
here, for God help those who help themselves. I am more than equal to the
challenges but my life is not just about being better than some of my prodigal, privileged,
yet mediocre cousins . I hope I am not wasting all my youth here in
vain.
Irving Texas
July 12th 2012
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