Back in 2000, when I moved to Canada with my family, I never understood
the gravity of my parent’s decision. Today, as a 26 year old, I reminisce about
my dad’s decision and I am ever so grateful.
We used to live in Dubai, a well to do middle class family with an
incredibly comfortable life. My dad is an architect, and he is the first person
that I have ever known who truly loves his job. Every time my dad would come
home from work with rolls of blueprints and building designs; he would try to
explain to my brother and I what all the lines, squiggles and doodles meant. My
brother took in the work with great admiration while I never understood what it
was all about.
My dad held great positions in many of the few reputable architecture
firms in Dubai. He built his career slowly over the twelve years we lived in
the Middle East. He was really proud of the work he did and I was really proud
of what he accomplished in his career. I admired his love and dedication to the
work he did.
When my brother and I were born, my mom chose to stay home with us. She
grew up in a family where her mother left early for work and came back in the
late evening with little to no time to spend with her four daughters. My mom
was happy about the choice she made; she never wanted my brother or I to ever
feel like we were missing something or that she didn't have time for us. Later
on, when we both grew older and with my dad's encouragement, my mom started
working with children. She absolutely loved the kids; she loved the work and
was glad she was able to do it while her own children were able to take care of
themselves a little more.
When I was about eight, my brother was sent to boarding school in India.
My parents determined this to be the best course of action for him as he wasn't
doing too well in school academically, and moving him from one school to
another did not help either. This is a decision I personally feel was terrible
on my parents’ part, but nonetheless, my brother left. This shattered me
emotionally. My relationship with my brother was unlike the ones I saw of my friends
with their older siblings. I remember feeling like the coolest kid ever because
my brother used to show me off to his friends and was never embarrassed to include
me in his plans. He was so proud of this little person that was his, whom he
assumed was adored by everyone as much as he did. He was my protector and
confidante and I loved him dearly. Don’t get me wrong, we fought like all
siblings do, but he was always there for me when I needed him. We were pals and
most importantly we were partners in crime. The day he left I felt like I had
lost him; he was my first ever companion and friend.
After my brother left my school and left Dubai, I slowly started getting
bullied more than usual. I wasn't skinny, my skin tone was darker than what
most Indian's like( and find beautiful); and I didn't have anyone to protect me
(my brother).
The last year that I spent in Dubai was probably the worst. I came home every
day and cried myself to sleep and just really didn't know what to do. I was
called many things; many things that really affected my self-esteem and
self-confidence, which in turn reflected in the grades I was getting. I never
told my parents what people were saying to me (this included my teachers as
well) as I felt that I needed to deal with it on my own.
The day my parents told me we finally got our landing papers to move to
Canada, I was light-headed. I was filled with glee and relief, just knowing
that I wouldn't have to go to school anymore with people that were horribly
cruel to me.
I don't think my parents know this, but I really think that moving to
Canada saved my life. I remember feeling so lost and alone that last year and I
had started self-harming which later on became a serious problem for me. The
stress of school, and the bullying and the feeling that I was disappointing my
parents all drove me deeper into a depressive state; luckily for me, that
changed when we moved to Canada.
I know that for my parents, moving to Canada was not a decision taken
lightly. I know my mom never wanted to move here, she wanted to be closer to
her family in India and moving to a far-away foreign country couldn't be
scarier. My dad was the one who convinced my mom, and so they were brave and
decided to move their entire lives to a country they knew very little about at
ages 38 and 49. They moved so that my brother and I would have better options
and hopefully a better life; a life that was better than they could imagine for
us in Dubai or India.
When we moved here, the plan was for my mom, my brother and I to start
our lives in Toronto, while my Dad would go back, work a little more and then
come join us a little later. It took my Dad two years to come join us permanently.
Toronto was a great place for my brother and I, we loved our schools, we
loved our friends, and we both were doing much better in school than we ever
did previously. I was also the happiest I had ever been in my entire life.
For my dad on the other hand, getting a job in Toronto was really tough.
For the many job interviews my dad went to, people told him he was
over-qualified. Some told him that he needed Canadian experience. Others told
him that he would have to re-qualify under Canadian certification to even apply
for jobs. All of this was really hard on my father, who for much of his career
had been adored by the many firms he had worked with. My dad decided to take on
a junior position, one that he had surpassed in his career by several years. He
went from one company to the next, not able to move up, and resenting the
underlying racism that existed in these so called 'equal opportunity' firms.
Finally, my dad got a position in Doha, Qatar through a Canadian company. When
he moved there, the project fell through and he had to act fast; so he applied
to companies within Doha and got a position where he was appreciated and
admired. This was about 7 years ago.
For the past seven years, I have seen my dad twice a year for about two
weeks each. With my dad's position in Doha, my mom never felt comfortable
getting a full-time job because the job she currently has allows her many long
breaks. These breaks are usually spent with my dad in Doha, keeping him company
in a city where he knows nobody and is generally a little unforgiving to men
who appear to be single. This is how it has been for the four of us the past
several years.
It is ironic to me, that we moved to Canada hoping to be together again.
Yet, somehow this country has taken a father away from my brother and me, taken
my mom’s husband away from her, and made him miss the many important moments in
both my brother’s and my life.
I have never told my parents how much I appreciate all the sacrifices they
have made for my brother and me. I have never told them how much their decision to
move became the best thing that ever happened to me. So thank you, to the both
of you; thank you for your love, your courage and your general bad ass-ness. I
love you so much. You are my heroes.
To Amma: you are the strength I have always wished I had. Thank you for
being so bold and agreeing to move to a country that didn't really allow your
family to be together. Thank you for your patience and understanding in
bringing up two teenagers in a new country. Thank you for supporting me when I
needed you the most. Thank you for being this amazingly funny quirky person who
with just one word or look can have a room full of people laughing.
Thank you Acha for giving up so much so that we could be comfortable.
Thank you for sacrificing so much of your own happiness so we could have ours.
Thank you for giving me a life that I never could have imagined if we had
stayed in Dubai. Thank you for being the most encouraging father, letting me do
whatever I wanted to do, even if you didn't really understand it. Thank you for
being the number one cheerleader in my life, and thank you finally for letting
me be everything I have ever wanted to be. I love you so much.
