Skip to main content

Sweet Caroline

"Sweeeeeet Caroline.......Ba Ba Ba", the crowd chanted in unison. I could not help in but join in the catchy chorus though it was the first ever time I had heard it and when it came to that part again, I sang even more heartily with the rest of the crowd. Thanks to that piece alone, the rather drab patriotic performance by the orchestra on the night of July 4th was saved.

And as I stared into the sky in wonder as the fireworks started, I recalled that it had been half a year since I shifted residence to the 'greatest country on Earth'. I knew what to expect when I landed, for American soft power had been extremely successful in reaching every nook and corner of the globe, to the frustration of most intellectuals. Materialistic, superficial, know-nothings, paternalistic, endlessly interested either in the weather or the lives of their dogs and the list does not end (especially if you ask the French). Most of these cultural nuances, as I found out, were pretty spot on.

However, those who only choose to view and point out only the negative aspects of a culture are not any less superficial, paternalistic or know-nothings. It took me a while to escape from that mentality and to see what more was there to this country. In the process, one slowly but surely realises that in the midst of the materialism and chatter, Americans are (at least in Texas) welcoming, kind and very protective of what they believe in. There are always exceptions of course, but it hard to ignore the kindness of the old folks who, seeing me quite lost, invited me to dance with them on the dance floor or friends who insist I go for parties despite my repeated refusals. It was much easier to feel at home here than in Europe where one stood out like a sore thumb. Plus as many noteworthy personalities have shown, in America, hard work and talent will always assure you a quality of life and riches, as compared to many places in Asia where one needs to have the right connections to even get a job.

Like every other country, America is far from perfect. However it is that imperfection and the continuous struggle between the numerous groups that adds the color and dynamism that makes American society a distinctive class of its own. The smarter Americans know it, and that's why they stay.




Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Fool's Pride

I was rolling up the sleeve of my uniform, preparing for a call up that might never come, when I realised that somehow I was overcome by a strange sense of pride, a pride that wanted the length of my sleeve to be precise as I have always pictured in my mind. Any longer, I would look shabby. Any shorter, I would look amateur. Then I donned the green, tightened the velcro around my waist and looked in the mirror. It was just like before and the memories started flooding me. I never really liked it when I donned it for 2 years in a row. Then I was in a place where I detested the culture, the harsh discipline, the unreasonable demands and the lack of purpose in everything I did. But now that it was over, when I look back, it was perhaps the greatest time of my life. The suffering, the digging, the starving, the cold, the banter, the rowdiness, the jungle, the marches,the mountains, the food, the stories, the friendships, it was all worth the 2 years. A girl friend of mine once asked...
2 comments
Read more

Marriage and All That : Part 2

"How about I get married?" "Are you serious?" "Yea" "No really. If you are serious, I can start looking for one" "Uhh....Nah. I was just kidding" After a while, she stopped asking me if I were serious. Instead, she would laugh it off every time I suggested it, which was the original intention of my question. For me it was just comic relief, this idea of marriage that parents back in India would pester their children with once they reached just about where I was right now; young, working with a steady income and of totally no use at home. Though when she did ask me if I was serious, I do remember feeling a palpitation in my heart, the kind one gets when having to make a yuge decision (#trump2016 #makeamericagreatagain), knowing very well that she, along with an army of aunts, waited for my green light to start searching for a bride for the most promising of their nephews. A NRI (non residential Indian used to refer to the ...
2 comments
Read more

6:15 on Hardy Toll

My left hand lies curled in a tight fist between my thighs, while the right presses stiffly against the coarse leather of the steering wheel, bearing the burden of the task. Though to call it a burden would be an overstatement of an activity that once gave me a sleepless 23 hour flight but now bordered on mindlessness. Now, being on the that road, at that time, when even the sun was too lazy to rise from its sleep, was second nature to me. Thoughts raced through my mind, thoughts about the destination I was headed to. The bulk of them recollected old frustrations and the remainder imagined new ones. My left fist curl tighter as I sped ahead in the air conditioned cocoon. I try to keep to the right of the two lanes as I drove, quasi subconsciously,  at 60 miles per hour on a a 65 mile per hour lane, which still had an additional legally tolerable 10 mile per hour buffer. Lost in my unending imaginings, I stay at that speed until an even slower traveler in front jerk me i...
1 comment
Read more