Dollar dreams gone wrong

A FEW years ago, as soon as we sat in a taxi, I nudged my partner and asked, ‘Is he an Indian? He looks like one.’ He nodded and I stood petrified. This taxi driver in Chicago had a great personality.  Perhaps he was a doctor or an engineer thrown into the foreign soil because of some misleading dollar dreams. We fell short of some coins while paying the bill and without turning behind, he hastily drew away to hide his identity.  

Just the other day, the son of somebody known to me met me in Chicago. ‘You do not know, Madam, how I have lived in Chicago. The university I had joined did not need any attendance, and so I worked day and night delivering pizzas, working as a salesman at the gas station, and what not.’ ‘How did you clear engineering?’ I asked perplexed. ‘Oh, they sent me an audio cassette and I gave my exam online!’ He triumphantly acknowledged. I was simply taken aback. 

Some years ago, I dined in a London restaurant and was shocked to be served by Indian girls and boys.  They were probably pursuing a course in hotel management. A few months back, I visited Melbourne on a short trip. Indians were everywhere, but unfortunately, at all the wrong places.   A large number of them were seen at wayside eateries, serving and waiting on customers, picking up their plates and washing them. All of them — I questioned them out of curiosity — had come there for ‘higher education’, but were sucked into menial work for the sake of survival. 

Then one day I happened to take a lift in search of a washroom and came across a large room where at least 50 students were taking an exam. ‘How dare you enter my school?’ a husky voice greeted me thus, and after mumbling an apology, I just took to my heels. Okay, I thought, so this was the one-room school where Indians took their degrees from! I remembered my acquaintance from Chicago.   

Driving back to the Melbourne airport, our taxi driver confided in us, ‘I am sorry that I left India, but I am tied up here. You might know doctor... he is my uncle’s son... my first cousin. See how much he has achieved there in India; and look at me, where I have reached. My father is a distinguished officer and my father-in-law is a reputed....’

I feel sorry for all the misguided Indian youth who rush to foreign shores to pursue their dollar dreams and do all kinds of menial work for foreigners. Here in India, they wouldn’t lift a finger to do any such work. One must realise that Indians are hard working and sincere, and foreigners look upon them as cheap labour. 

Every time any of my known people brag that their son or daughter is living abroad, I can well imagine what they must be doing.