LOST IN NEWYORK (from fursad dot com)
--- Kumar
Dear Fursad dot com. I read your article about Neha and found it really compelling to narrate my own story as well. However, I would firstly like to congratulate you on this website that can prove to be a difference in the lives of Nepalese people living abroad: The main reason how I happened to come across this article and why I choose to tell my tale. I would also like to tell everyone that Life is not what it seems to be but rather, what you make of it. The same could perhaps be applied in Neha’s life; where she had been greatly disillusioned by what life seemed to be, rather than, what it actually was. If and when it does get published on fursad dot com, I would feel nice if you too could let me know what you think by adding in your comments.
My name is Kumar and I am living in America since the past 6 years. I did most of my schooling in Darjeeling at St. Paul’s School. I completed my degree in Bachelor’s of Art’s in English, from St. Xavier’s, Calcutta. I worked for a while with the Times of India as a correspondent. I realized, after a short while, that media was not my cup of tea and decided to move on to greener pastures. It was then I decided that I wanted to move to America, “The Land of the free & the home of the braveâ€, to pursue a degree in Law. “Lawyers always made money.†That’s what my uncle said. He was a lawyer.
I appeared for my SAT and applied for various Ivy League colleges form the east coast to the west. I wrote scores of letters, checked out hundreds of websites and decided to study in New York or Chicago. I had to make my choice. New York it was as I couldn’t find another city so culturally and ethnically diverse. I was thrilled when I was accepted at The Cornell Law School and started packing my bags almost immediately. I wanted to be a New York personal injury lawyer, as the lowest salary drawn by such a type of lawyer was in six figures. Now, I knew for a fact that money doesn’t talk: it shouts and screams!
After 5 months I finally left Tribhuvan Airport and was boarded in a series of transit flights from KTM-DOHA-LONDON-NEW YORK. I reached the Promised Land after a tiresome 17 hours of flying. Thankfully, my cousin was there to receive me at the airport. We boarded a yellow cab and drove down the streets of the city that was called the Big Apple. Now the truth dawned on me, why it was called so: Big Apple indeed…because everyone wanted a piece of it! Hours later I showered, shaved, ate a little, and soon was in deep slumber. Thanks to the jet-lag!
New York was a cosmopolitan hub in a true sense of the word! Asians, Hispanics, Caucasians & Colored people of all shapes and sizes: Nationalities ranging from Indians, Chinese, Russians, Italians, Japanese, you name it, they were all here. A melting pot indeed! The fewest of the lot, to my dismay, were Nepalese. Yet, in this broad spectrum of colors, none shone more brightly, than a girl called Tshering. She was sitting next to me in class, on Orientation Day. It was straight out of the movies I thought to myself; or should I call it Divine Intervention. I was sitting next to the person who was about to change my entire philosophy about life-and she happened to be a charming Nepali girl.
Tshering taught me more about life than Mother Nature herself! She was the most Beautiful, Intelligent, Talented, Charming and Hot girl I had ever laid eyes on. Somehow the entire package didn’t seem right. Here I was, at the threshold of my career and everything seemed so perfect and clear. I had no idea that everything was about to change; not necessarily for the better! The cause of it was her, and the reason for the effect…unknown. It never even dawned on me that it had been Eve who tempted Adam and not the other way around. Was it in Satan’s devious ploy to turn the world upside-down that he decided to introduce this universal phenomenon in my life as well? I was in love and about to make my final journey downhill! The worst part was that I was not in my senses.
To cut a long story short, let me tell you all about it. My first semester at NYLC was going fine. I was getting my grades and even got a job at the school library. Every weekend Tshering and I went either for a movie, or some nightclub or the other. We ate hot dogs or pizza and discovered more about each other, than I knew about Mozart. There were some things I loved about her and some things I was absolutely crazy about; like her legs that went for miles and miles. She had a perfectly shaped face; large eyes, shapely nose, flawless complexion and a tenderly graceful neck. She had an aura abound her: a graceful charm that drew you closer to her like a magnet. Was it her personality or her looks; I was in constant debate with myself.
The fist time Tshering and I got together and ate a home cooked meal, was something I shall never forget. She insisted that we should get only Lamb, that too from New Zealand as she never had Poultry or Beef. I wondered whether it was a facade or an actual preference for the type of meat. Her claim at not being able to eat with her bare hands astonished me. How could a nepali-girl, born and brought up in Nepal, not be able to eat with her hands, a simple home cooked meal of Dal, Bhaat & Kukhra-ko-masu? When it came to the drinks I had opted for a usual beer, while she claimed that she could drink only wine; that too, white. I had no wine, so we ended up fighting instead! So that’s how our differences arose.
Tshering's father was a Newar and mother, a Tibetan. She had done her entire school years in Kathmandu itself and then later, completed her further studies in New Delhi, India. She had reached the US a few weeks earlier than me, however she had undergone the process of Un-Nepalification (not being a Nepali anymore) at a quicker rate than most other Nepali people. She was a true Piscean- in short, a dreamer. She would have carried the part of Judas well, had Judas been a girl. Her accent seemed strange, but yet considerably understandable, as it seemed to be undergoing metamorphosis from Nepali English to American English. Day by day, she moved further away, as she inched closer towards my heart. There now seemed to be so many things I hated and loved about her.
Soon after, we both graduated and were working with different law firms. The reason being, that she wanted to be a one of the many mesothelioma lawyers in the city who were minting money in the Big Apple. I chose to join a local law firm started by three of the most successful New York personal injury lawyers. Within a few months, I got a car financed by a New York car insurance company. Tshering and I moved in together and we got ourselves a beautiful home in the suburbs; thanks to Ameriquest Mortgage. Life seemed good but somehow and somewhere I felt it could get better. Tshering had changed so much over the three years since law school. Her accent had changed completely, her hair was blonde, and now her preferential brand was either Chanel or Christian Dior. I was happy and yet sad to move in with her. She wanted a live-in relationship, an open relationship, while I on the other hand had another dream; a home, a beautiful wife, 2-3 lovely children, a nice backyard and a dog, preferably a Black Labrador.
The first few weeks seemed like a timeless honeymoon. She cooked while I cleaned the plates, we drank wine and made love and greeted each other in the mornings. We were sometimes so caught up with work that we rarely got to see each other till late evenings. It was then I asked her the Golden Question. "Tshering, I'd like you to stay at home while I work." She stared at me as if I had uttered an obscenity. Thank goodness I hadn't popped the other Golden Question; "Tshering, Will you marry me?" I felt sheepish somehow, at having put myself in that situation. My priorities hadn't changed and yet I felt a twinge of western liberalization in her. "Could she make a good Nepali wife?" I pondered to myself in oblivion. Tshering had changed so much over the years and I failed to realize that, me on the other had had not entirely digested the fact that I was Asian to the roots. She on the other hand had evolved completely into the 21st Century cosmopolitan woman. I had been so caught up in love, that I had failed to make this observation, which I could so clearly now.
Soon months passed and I realized that there was something missing in our relationship. What could be the cause of this void? I loved her and she loved me. Yet, there was something not just right about our relationship. Could it be my male-ego or just my suspicious mind playing games with me? Tshering started coming home late from work. She said that her American boss was a workaholic and she was looking for a raise. Staying at home, alone in the evenings, gave me a lot of time to think. One evening I was up till 10pm and still Tshering hadn't come home. She soon called and said that she was up at the office working late. I decided to go out for a drink. I was feeling a bit low, so I thought I'd treat myself to some nice jazz music and some cocktails at this place called "Mojo's" in downtown Manhattan.
The club was half full of people and the music was soothingly mellow. No sooner had I settled down at my table when I heard a familiar laughter a few tables behind mine. I turned around and I was shocked to see what I saw. Tshering was sitting at one of the tables with her arms around a man, whom I assumed to be her boss. They were flirting endlessly, while I fidgeted with rage. She had failed to notice me. They then started kissing. I didn't know how to react, so I just got up, turned around, and went straight towards their table. Tshering almost dropped the glass she was holding when she saw me. I stared at her and said in a calm voice, "Thought you were supposed to be at the office." She then maintained her composure and replied back coolly, "Thought you were supposed to be at home." I walked towards the exit and got this strange uncanny feeling that I was never going to see her again. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I walked towards my car. My heart was pounding like a sledge hammer, as I could feel it beat. I wished I could drive my car off a cliff in sheer desperation.
I reached home and headed straight for the whiskey decanter. I poured myself a tall glass and reached for the cabinet where the medicines were. A bottle of sleeping pills were lying in the corner. I opened the bottle and poured the pills onto my palm. Ten or fifteen, I wasn't sure how many I popped into my mouth. I washed it all down with the whiskey. I poured myself another glass and sat down, after gulping that too. Thoughts flashed across my mind as my heart filled with rage and my eyes with tears. I remembered the first day I had seen Tshering, when she sat next to me in class. The love we had shared seemed like nothing now. There was this great emptiness I felt deep inside me which was filling every atom of my existence. Life meant nothing without her. I got up and smashed the decanter on the wall. I walked upto the mirror and punched at the reflection of myself. The mirror was shattered and my hand was a bleeding mess of blood and glass. The blood dripped onto the cream colored carpet as my vision blurred. I tried to stand straight but I staggered. The pills were doing their job. I felt my head hit the desk as I blacked out.
When I awoke, I found myself in the hospital. I wondered what had happened. My body ached and I felt a dull throbbing pain in my right hand. I looked down and saw that it was wrapped in bandage. I felt around my head and realized that another bandage covered it. At that very moment, the door swung open and a rather stern looking nurse strode in. "You're lucky to be alive," she said. "Am I hurt bad?" I asked. "Well, depends on what your definition of bad is." She continued, "Five stitches on the hand, seven on the head and your stomach had to be washed out." She read and jotted down some notes on my chart. Then, she took out a needle and rolled up my sleeves. "This is going to help you rest" she said. I felt a tiny prick of the needle as she carefully administered another dose of the drug. I tried to empty my mind and made a conscious effort not to realize what situation I was in. Frankly, I didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered anymore, not with Tshering gone.
I was discharged from the hospital after five days. I took a cab home and was surprised to find the front open. I slowly opened the door and realized what had happened. Tshering had left! Strangely I didn't feel bad anymore. Perhaps, I had expected this to happen after all. Tshering had come and gone out of my life like a hurricane. She left without a trace. I experienced a bitter-sweet feeling inside me. Something deep within was assuring me that things were going to turn out all right from that moment on. I smiled and closed the door behind me. I sat down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling.
This was my fifth year in America and life meant nothing. The irony however was that "This was the land of milk and honey" and I was supposed to be living the great American dream. The reality of the situation was that I was living in a house I could not call my home, my girlfriend had cheated on me and I had even tried to commit suicide. A harsher reality was that my parents had no clue what I had gone through. I had been unfair to them! I hated myself at that moment, for being an ungrateful son. I had been selfish in thinking only about myself and worse still, I had tried to commit suicide.
Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, as I slowly try to get back to reality. It sure wasn't easy but definitely not impossible to get my act together. A huge change has come over me. I want to get back to my own country. I have seen enough. The materialistic world where I could earn in dollars doesn't matter anymore. New York doesn’t matter anymore nor does a green card. A spiritual awakening is what my soul has experienced. It has indeed changed the roots of my philosophy. Love was not the foundation I needed to start my new life. I want to make my life more meaningful. I have realized that, "Life is meaningless, unless it means something to someone."
I have started sponsoring 5 children in Nepal. They go to school and I feel proud that I can make that difference in their otherwise helpless existence. I want to come back to Nepal and do something for my people. I want to share my experiences with people and help them enrich their lives in any way I can. I ask one question to all the Nepalese people who aren't living in Nepal anymore-"Are you truly happy?" "Are you happy living in someone else's country, eating alien food and not celebrating festivals on a grand scale like back home?" "Don’t you miss the simple pleasures of life?" I'm sure most of them are fed up with their mundanely boring cosmopolitan lives.
Thankfully, I have saved some money at least, even though not quite a lot. I know that one day I'll get my dream home with "the entire package." I'm no longer worried about my future. Not that I don't care. I see more meaning in being a dutiful son rather than being a dutiful husband. I call my parents every once in a while now. They seem so excited to hear my voice and I feel sad deep inside. My parents recently sent me a picture of a girl they have chosen for me. "A typical Nepali girl," I said to myself, as I gazed at the picture. I sometimes wonder what the future will bring and I reassure myself. "Whatever it is, I'm going to live one day at a time!"
