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A story of friendship in a new land
There was something strange in the water.
At least that was what Kusum-Tai Karmarkar thought as she took a long drink from the glass of pani the flight attendant brought her.
Sitting aboard the Czechoslovakian Airlines flight bound from Mumbai, India to Chicago, so many worries poured through her mind: Will we reach there or not? How will my sons pick up the language? Am I better off in India or America?
Again she sipped her water. Again the bubbles floated up and out her nose, prompting her to wonder if all the water in America was fizzy and sour tasting like this.
How will I cook with this strange water? How will I make chai?
Eventually, the misunderstanding became clear – Kusum-Tai had her first taste of carbonated water and her first taste of the difficulties that lay ahead.
That was 37 years ago. Today, watching this sprite, energetic woman prepare a vegetable bhaji in her modern, sunlit kitchen, it is hard to imagine that she and her family left India with all their possessions stuffed into a few suitcases. Layered between her favorite saris were her jewelry, clothing for the kids and – most important – her rolling pin to make the flatbread called chapatti, the staple of every Indian meal.
“Leaving my family and friends in India was real hard because we have a close family from both sides,” Kusum-Tai recalls, as she brushes back a wisp of silver hair that has escaped from her clip.
“I was worried about my kids because they used to talk in our mother tongue – Marathi. My English I learned in the school but I don’t know how to do conversation. Sushil has had one subject in English from 5th to 8th grade. But Subodh does not speak a word of English.”
Like thousands of Indian families in the 1970s, Kusum-Tai and her husband Vasudeo moved to America in search of prosperity and opportunities that were not possible in India. The 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, which reversed decades of restrictive immigration policies, resulted in unprecedented numbers of new arrivals in this country, particularly from South Asia.
Between 1971, the year Kusum-Tai and her family arrived, and 2002, more than 1 million Indians were admitted to the United States. Most applied for permanent resident status and eventually became U.S. citizens. Their presence has contributed to the development of Asian enclaves in several major cities, where these new citizens learned to assimilate into American culture while still retaining a strong sense of their Indian identity. Kusum-Tai’s family was one of the first Indian families to settle in suburban Chicago. For them, this meant literally building a community from the ground up.
Since settling here, Kusum-Tai has accomplished things she never dreamed of when she left India: She earned her drivers’ license and her American citizenship. Twice, she started her own business. She and Vasudeo were able to send their older son to medical school – he is now a cardiologist in the Bay Area. Their younger son is the CEO of a company. How did she do it? For Kusum-Tai, the solution to all life’s challenges has been: ‘with a little help from my friends’.
“I am so lucky!” Kusum-Tai exclaims, clapping her hands together for emphasis. “Right from the beginning I always made friends. That’s why I learn from them so many times and they learn from me also.”
Pradnya Ambekar, who lived nearby, became Kusum-Tai’s first friend in America. She remembers that Kusum-Tai’s loving, helping and happy nature was the catalyst that propelled their friendship into a close relationship.
“I was newly married and Kusum-Tai had been married for some time. She helped me settle into a family life while living in the U.S. I helped her to become “Americanized” while still being Indian,” Pradnya remembers. “Kusum-Tai taught me to cook many Indian delicacies while I got her out on her first temporary job.”
Kusum-Tai had never worked in India. She had not learned to drive and was worried about her limited English skills. With help from Pradnya, she found a temporary clerical job at the company where Pradnya had worked for several years. Each morning, Pradnya picked up Kusum-Tai at her apartment and they drove to work.
“The first job was easy because Pradnya was always there and everybody knows her,” Kusum-Tai recounts. “She told them, ‘Kusum-Tai is new in America and if she does not understand what you are saying, come to me and I will explain to her and then she will do it.’ And then my fear of how to speak with American people was gone.”
In the 1970s, it was common for Indians emigrating to the U.S. to have a sponsor – a person already living in this country who could help the new arrival become established. For Vasudeo and Kusum-Tai, that person was her maternal cousin, Shekhar, whom she considers a brother.
Shekhar and his wife, Mohini, lived in a high-rise apartment building on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. A broad smile lights Kusum-Tai’s face as she remembers how her sons Sushil and Subodh clamored to do the laundry so they could ride the elevator down 19 floors to the laundry room and back up again.
“Up and down, up and down,” she laughs, her brown eyes sparkling behind oval-rimmed glasses. “For one month we lived in their apartment. Mohini showed me everything. How to put the coin inside the washer and dryer, how to go to the bank. At that time there were no Indian shops. There was a Dominick’s store where we used to buy whole wheat flour for chapatti.”
Wherever Mohini went, Kusum-Tai went too and she quickly learned the skills she needed to survive.
“Without Shekhar and Mohini it was really hard for us to settle down in this country,” she says. “My brother’s heart was so big that we never forget about him. After a week [on his new job] my husband got his paycheck and Shekhar put the down payment and then he bought a car for us. They did so much. If we need money they will give it immediately. Without questioning.”
Within a month, Kusum-Tai and her family moved to their own apartment in the Chicago suburb of Wheaton. The boys learned English in summer school and the family established themselves in their new home, building a tightly-knit community as more and more Indian families settled in the area.
Kusum-Tai had already been married 15 years when she came to this country, so she quickly became like an older sister to the new Indian brides who arrived in the community. When she heard about a new family, she promptly invited them for a meal, doling out marital advice and recipes alongside the khichadi she served for dinner.
Kusum-Tai and Pradnya soon formed a group of five Indian women - “a ladies’ club” - who planned many events during their first few years in America. Every Friday, they gathered for a potluck supper at one of their homes. They celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and Hindu holidays. They organized baby showers, called Dohaljevan.
Kusum-Tai threw herself into entertaining. From morning to night, the sharp, pungent aroma of golden-hued daals and masalas filled their tiny apartment. In those days, Indian staples and spices were difficult to obtain so Kusum-Tai decided to help the Indian community by starting a small Indian grocery from her home.
Once a month, Vasudeo and Kusum-Tai drove 50 miles to the north side of Chicago to purchase her groceries in bulk. When customers came to her home, they were treated like rajas with tea and freshly-made snacks. The problem was that they were treated so well, the profits were devoured! The business didn’t last long but the friendships flourished.
The year after Kusum-Tai and her family moved to America, they sponsored Suhas Athalye, a fellow-Indian from their hometown of Pune, who lived with them for seven months. When Suhas found a job, he sent for his new wife, Jaya, who formed an instant bond with Kusum-Tai.
“She was my teacher!” Jaya exclaims when she describes her friend. “She taught me everything – religious things, cooking. She was like an older sister.”
When Jaya had her first puja (Hindu blessing ceremony), Kusum-Tai brought her own pots and pans and cooked all day. When Jaya had her first child, Kusum-Tai showed her how to bathe the baby. “She is very loving, very kind,” Jaya says, “she won’t do for herself but she will do for everybody else.”
Kusum-Tai is quick to shrug off compliments. “That’s the way we (Indians) do. Helping each other always.”
America has left its impression on Kusum-Tai. But more significant is the indelible mark the community she helped build has left on this country. From Bollywood to Bhangra dance, Indian culture has become part of mainstream America.
The friends she made during her early years in Chicago are now scattered across the country, but she keeps in touch with weekly phone calls and e-mail. Though she claims to have scaled back on entertaining, Kusum-Tai is still happiest in her kitchen, preparing meals for friends and family, childhood pals from India, visiting swamis and long-lost relatives who appear at her door. Her heart and her home are always open.
“Friendship always comes from the stomach!” she says with pride.
That mantra continues to serve her, and her many friends, well.
