By Gyaneshwar Dayal
It was a sunny day, unusual for Boston where winter is cloudy and winter temperatures dip to minus thirty degree Celsius. I and my wife and I took ‘Lyft’ to Andover from the North End; we were visiting a friend there. It was a week when we had reached Boston and didn’t have much idea of the town and its milestones. The American public transport is pathetic and that is what you learn the first thing when you land in the US. So it is either the metro or app-based taxis like Lyft. Must say both are efficient and cozy to ride. The Drivers are friendly and welcoming and forthcoming with information that you might need or might not. Our driver to Andover was a bulky, friendly guy with a beer pouch and innocent blue eyes. I could see from the rearview mirror, he looked relaxed and in good mood. Then it happened. My wife broke the protocol that my daughter in the US had warned, “Don’t talk politics here”.
But we are Indians and politics to us is as natural as breathing. My wife asked, “so how do you like Joe Biden”. The salvo had been fired. There was an awkward silence for a while. Then he came up, almost whispered, “it is risky to talk about politics these days, they judge you.” It was a revelation. Talking politics in the USA could land you in trouble. I thought that happened only in India these days. I said, “But he looks like a nice guy isn’t he. “Can’t say that. For me, Trump is the man who speaks for people like me. If you watch CNN and CNBC you get the wrong picture.” Now things got a little clear to me, “so they don’t tell the truth you mean then how you get the right news,” I posed like a newbie in the town. “I watch Fox News. They don’t mince words or sugarcoat fake news to look nice. By the way, you guys are from India, right? “Yea,” I said, trying to mimic the thick Boston accent. Now we were talking. I told him about myself that I am a journalist back home in India with a daily newspaper. His initial hitch was now gone, he asked if you guys were visiting for the first time, I replied in affirmative, “we are visiting our daughter who works here.” “That’s good” he said, and kept focusing on the road which was merging with another arterial road.
Then he abruptly spoke as if murmuring; “I am an IT professional too”. “That’s great!” I quipped, taking the conversation forward, His blue eyes got a little skewed and he replied “nothing great about it, I am without a job for twenty years now. Indian guys are working where I used to. At sixty I am driving a cab, nothing great about that”. I almost said to myself, “but 20 years is a pretty long time to be unemployed as a professional?” He looked into the rear view mirror to make eye contact. “You see I don’t want to be rude but Indians have robbed me and my fellows of their jobs. They come in a swarm, form closed groups, and work for much less. And they are not team workers. They are so self-centric. That observation is easy to make though from a vantage point but if all you have your skills to rely upon that becomes a habit.
All companies are greedy and want to save on labor. They are ready to work extra hours as they have nothing back home. I nodded in agreement, my journo training coming to my rescue, ‘don’t argue if you want to know more,’ indeed India is a third-world country. Have you ever been there?, No, but someday I will. You have Bangalore where careers are made.” But I won’t go there. My family won’t let me go there,” it is dangerous out there? “Now who told you that, Bangalore is a good metro to be in, with all the facilities of a big city, No I meant there is a lot of traffic and diseases and crime that way. I said that’s so right. Then there was silence for some time. The Google map was playing tricks and we got a little lost and took a wrong turn so we backed up the car

to bring it back onto the main road.

We were nearing our destination. Then as apologetic he said in a subdued tone, “I didn’t intend to offend you, but that is how life has been and I hold my politicians and corporates responsible. He paused and almost spat out, “Indians should also understand that we have problems with them. They are taking our lives.” I nodded again ‘Indeed you speak from your heart and I appreciate that, you should prevail on your family visiting India, I am sure you will be fine. By the way, you could try Indian cuisine. Most westerners love that, “I like Chicken tikka masala” from his mouth it looked like an exotic dish. In the same breath, he added. I am a nonviolent person. Indeed he was he showed no signs of aggression. It was relief as a viral video swam across my eyes, an American woman shouting, “I hate you Indian. All these Indians come to America because they want a better life,” the assaulter, Esmeralda Upton yelled from my mobile phone a video of the incident that went viral. But it was serious in some places. I worked figures in my head. Gun violence kill more than 38,000 people and 85,000 injuries each year (the American Public Health Association data). Asians as also Africans are often victims of such violence. And we are not even talking about trigger happy cops who can shoot the driver for not pulling over when asked to do so.
In June, A 31-year-old Indian-origin man was shot dead in Queens while he sat in SUV parked down the street. It happened days after an Indian was killed after sustaining an apparent gunshot wound to his head in the US state of Maryland. I wanted to go ahead with the conversation, my greed to know more of his mind prompted me to go ahead with the conversation despite my wife nudging me. “Why hate and hate related crimes are increasing everywhere, in my country people are being lynched for their caste and religion how is it here,” he wasn’t stupid he sensed the veiled attack and shifted his posture, “Ya that’s bad no one should be killed for whatever reasons. I appreciate Gandi (Gandhi) and his nonviolent stuff. I have never touched a gun in my life.” I smiled in conformity with a sense of relief. But this relief did not come to the Maryland Indian Sikh family, the shocking details about the kidnapping and subsequent death of the family Maryland shootings has once again highlighted the high racial abuse and crimes Indian-Americans face in the US. This year alone has seen Indians being abused, beaten and even killed in the US as victims of gun violence, financial scams or racially motivated crimes targeting Indians. To be honest people were nice to us, including our Lyft driver. The warmth of Boston is unparalleled.
We had reached our destination. For the first time, I saw his white face turn reddish in the sunlight, his innocent eyes glimmering as he extended his bulky hand for a handshake. “I said thank you, I appreciate your effort. It was great to meet you”. Me too, he said and left. But my thought train had started. He wasn’t abusive but bitter and knew very little about the outside world perhaps through videos. I pictured him again and didn’t look like a white supremacist, to say the least, but was racist. He didn’t get the job because when there was time to update he was drinking beer in the pub and watching soccer while his Indian counterparts were burning the midnight oil, eight of them in a single room, remitting money back home for their parents to repair their house. Of course, he would not know it till he saw it all. He never might. He was racist alright but misinformed and wronged and ridiculed on CNN and abandoned by his liberal political dispensation. He needed a patient hearing, he never got one. Back home my daughter was furious and wanted me to complain or give his bad rating. “It is people like him that qualified people suffer. They have to leave the US and he would live on entitlements,” I didn’t want to annoy my daughter but also didn’t want to increase bitterness in my Lyft driver. I did not complain or wrote an adverse remark. But something held me back from giving him a good star rating. I ended up giving him one star. Perhaps that is how reverse racism works. Negativity breeds negativity. I am no exception.