Again, about Kanyadaan, Again

As the 2024 election nears, tensions are high. I argued with a close friend about his choice for President. He laughed. “Why are you so emotional?” he asked. I realized I had had an angry exchange with another friend who had said something about the “eating cats and dogs” event.

Why was I so emotional, I wondered? I found the answer in a poem I had written in 2021. I noticed I had skipped writing about that in an earlier blog post about the poem and the artwork I created from it in 2023.

So here I am again.

Earlier…

For those who have not migrated to the US themselves, I want to explain some stages. I came here on a fiacée visa, which my fiancé, Jay, an American citizen, had applied for in 1998. After 8 months, a police background check in India, and an medical examination in India, I was granted the visa. I came here and we were married in 1999. After some years I could apply for a green card, or apply to be a permanent resident, or a resident alien (maybe thats why its called a “Green” card…). Then Jay and I went for the interview with an officer where we had to prove we were indeed married. We took wedding photo albums, and answered questions. I was granted the green card. I was now legal.

Back to the poem, written in 2021.

In the earlier blog post I had written about some reasons why I had finally, after being here for 21 years, applied for citizenship. But there had been another incident which inspired the citizenship. The 2016 election results.

When my 5th grader woke up in the morning after the election results were declared, she asked from the top of the steps, “Who won?”

“Trump,” I said from the bottom of the steps.

She burst into tears!

“What happened?” I asked, running up the steps, perplexed at such a strong reaction from a child.

“Now will you have to go back to India?”

“No I will not!”

“That’s what a boy in my class said would happen if Trump won!”

That day, after dropping my daughter to school, I had called my friend Colleen to meet me at the diner for coffee. She volunteered during elections and made sure people voted. I told her the story. I told her to hold my hand as I made her a promise. “I promise you I will become a citizen for my daughter’s sake.”

“I am with you,” Colleen had promised.

The exact lines from my poem, Kanyadaan, Again:

Will he give me away, again
to my Childrenland?

a country which gives this immense privilege
to every newborn

even those whose mother is an alien.

I want those children to know

that no 10-year old classmate
Can ever tell them again that

“If Trump wins he will send
your mother back where she came from.”

Last week…

Last week when my daughter, a freshman at James Madison University, was home from college for Fall Break, we decided to go vote. Her brother had already voted. Her dad was visiting his parents in Ohio and would vote on Nov 4. So we went, IDs in hand. We got the sample ballots. We voted. I picked up a sticker and stuck it to the back of my phone. I waited outside the room for her.

“Did you get a sticker,” I asked when she emerged.

She shook her head so I asked her to go get one. Then I took the photo posted above, both of us with our stickers. We had both voted for a president for the first time! And, it turns out that one of the candidates was a woman, and of Indian heritage! How cool was that?!

As a creative person I know we learn a lot from our own creations. But still it was cool to go back to the poem and the blog to see what I had thought was important to mention then and what I had left out. And how I had to go back to find what was important to mention now. And why it was so emotional for me. Unlike my friends who have been citizens for decades or who were born here.

Go vote!