My Encounter with Fargo, ND

It’s true they say, “Colder the weather is, warmer the people are!” And Fargo is “people” for me, then & now and forever.

It’s almost 19 years since the day I landed in Fargo ND. Even after two decades I still remember my 1st day. The very first impression was, “I can’t breathe here”. Well, in my home town in India you can actually feel you are breathing. The air has volume there. It’s thick with all extra nutrients (?) such as carbon particles, garbage molecules, all kinds of pollutants. So you feel the air. In Fargo, I couldn’t tell if there was anything going inside my lungs or not. That was my first surprise; of course, I was going to get many more during my twelve of years here.

It was kind of spring when Fargo & I met each other. Sorry… I should explain. Fargo is not a town. For anyone else Fargo may just be a city, for me Fargo is an entity. It has a soul and has a character that only a few can realize.

When I decided to take a job in US, I applied to only 2 advertisements. And a company in Fargo offered me a job. Since I had done all my homework about the job profile, there wasn’t a question of not taking it. I was never worried about the money, so pay was not the consideration, the people who interviewed me were very friendly and there was a mutual comfortable feeling. But still I wanted to consult a couple people I knew who were in US for some time. I called one of them and he said he has never heard of Fargo and he was asking me where it was. Next, I called my wife’s cousin. He was in US for quite some time so I knew that he would know about Fargo and he did. But after talking to him I wished I didn’t. His description of Fargo reminded me of Dante’s Inferno. It scared me, shook me, demoralized me, did every mental damage that it possibly could (sorry for a little exaggeration on my part). “I didn’t know you disliked me that much”, I jokingly told him this years later when he visited us in Fargo. His opinion about Fargo had changed then. Of course it was his dear little sister living there.

Anyways, this all was weighing on me when I came to Fargo. May be that made the experience more pleasant.

When I stared working & got to know people inside office & outside (mostly other Indians who had moved there several years ago); invariably our conversation would start with a smirky smile & a curios question, “How did you come HERE?” They used to wonder; out of all the cities in US, why someone would choose Fargo to come to work & that too straight from Mumbai.

Although the question bothered me initially, I realized that they wanted to know how come Fargo is so famous!

Then they would usually move on to ask me how’s the climate in my home town? (19 years ago, Fargo hardly knew anyone beyond neighboring Canada & a few adjacent states such as Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana & that’s all)

I remember a story I heard from a friend; who was a CT surgeon at the local hospital in Fargo. One of his patients had asked him where he was from and when he told that patient that he was from India, the patient had asked him which state (of US) was it in. Fargo was very ignorant about rest of the world then.

It used to be like a child that was self-engrossed and experiencing tranquility. And why shouldn’t it? Fargo was a self-sufficient, neat little town. Like a small baby tucked in baby cloths by a mom after bathing.

Fargo always had a calm stature. In spite of the bad publicity it got due to extreme cold and the movie “Fargo”, it always had a warmth in its air.

To me, Fargo was, at times, like a moody grandpa. Who on colder wintery nights would sit around a dimly lit fireplace and lost in thoughts of good old days! No worries, not too much excitement; just serenity. On the contrary in spring the same Grandpa would literally spring up to a buzzing day & night work and sandbagging to save its character from the two flooding rivers. The Red River of The North & Wild Rice. Both rivers were very special. Red is the one of only two rivers in the world that flows from South to North. Wild Rice was mellow & tasteless like rice but would show its colors only in spring. Like the presence of rice you feel while eating Biryani.

Fargo, in those days, had another habit. It would embrace anyone easily. When I moved there and started a small Indian community festival, Fargo helped me grow it from a few to hundreds.

Only once had I seen Fargo really angry! Only once. But it was quite understandable. It was when a North Dakotan girl was kidnapped from a mall in a nearby city, raped & murdered brutally. Fargo was upset, it was angry. And for months it weighed on its mind. I know during the wintery nights, it would also shed some tears. Both Fargo & I used to.

My love for Fargo from the day I landed to the date today hasn’t gone down. Its been 7 years now that Fargo & I continued our long-distance relationship.

I didn’t grow up in Fargo but I did see Fargo grow up spells & bounds. Not just it developed itself, it developed my wife & I and also simple, naive people like us. I saw my son grow up & move out to college. I bought my first car, my first house with Fargo looking over my shoulders. When I made mistakes, it took me in its arms & consoled me. When I wept in pain, Fargo did too. When times were tough, Fargo stood behind me as a rock.

The years have passed and stress has grown, life’s lessons are hard to accept at times but then I look back and call Fargo in my memory. It still responds. An assuring aura is felt instantly. It calms me down mentally; however, it wells up my eyes.

Fargo, no doubt is the coldest city I came across but that’s what made me fall in love with it.

Because…..

It’s true they say, “Colder the weather is, warmer the people are!”

And Fargo is “people” for me, then, now and forever.

 (Original Pictures’ Credit: newvitruvian.com)

My Encounter With Veg Vs Non-Veg

My wife is a vegetarian. She has never eaten any kind of meat but she is okay with eggs. My East Indian friend calls himself a pure vegetarian but eats fish. My grandma was vegetarian too but I was told (by my mom) that she once fainted at the sight of eggs in our fridge. My South Indian friend is a staunch vegetarian but he doesn’t even eat ginger & onion let alone egg or fish or meat.

So now having come from such a diverse (?) culture anything that I see or hear shouldn’t really surprise me, right? That’s what I thought too but reality was going to be different.

Several years ago; I used to take my son to McDonalds on every Sunday morning while my wife used to stay home. She never liked the smell there and had nothing other than fries to eat there. She is a diet freak. In a way, I am very blessed (?) that everyone around me is some kind of freak. (My wife is a diet freak, my best friend is a green-earth freak, my brother is a ritual freak, my boss (then) was a process freak, my company is a metrics freak…. I am “Friends- The TV sitcom” freak.) Anyways, coming back on track. My son and I would die to eat at McDonalds. In those days of course. Lucky for us we didn’t continue that else I really would have died. That’s a different story though.

On that Sunday, at McDonalds, we decided to take the food home and eat. I don’t remember what the occasion was. So, I thought maybe my wife would enjoy something too, meaning in addition to smelling (not eating) fries. I looked at the list and saw cheese burger. I called my wife and told her not to cook anything that we were getting MacFood and plan was to eat while watching a movie. I ordered cheese burger for her, my son I & got our usual crispy chicken & chicken nuggets and went home. Once settled down, my wife opened her pack & she cried out loud. First, I thought; I must have kept the lights in bathroom on. Well, that’s what I get to hear when I do that. But soon we found out that her cheese burger had beef in it. You can imagine how the rest of my married bachelor day would have gone. My son & I tried to explain that we seriously didn’t know or think that it contained beef but she thought we pulled a prank on her. I tried to tell her my logic. You order Chicken burger and you get a Chicken in it. So, you order cheese burger, shouldn’t you expect to have cheese in it? She was beyond understanding any logic that day. Well unfortunately I couldn’t disappoint the food, so I had to eat it. (By the way not that I eat beef but I liked the cheese burger that day. That was of course my first & last cheese burger).

It is a profound question for me that what is veg and what is non-veg! Isn’t it simple that what is a plant-based food should be veg and what is an animal product should be non-veg but then how come milk & yogurt is veg? And how come for my South Indian friend onion & ginger are non-veg?

I decided to explore this well-traveled path and well-debated time less question of ages once again. I decided to interview people. Well that turned out to be not so good for me at all. I asked my wife, “you are a vegetarian so how come you can eat eggs but not chicken?” She gave a cruel look and said, “Do you see flesh & blood when you see egg?” Huh! her definition for non-veg was anything that has flesh and blood in it. Fair enough. I asked my East Indian friend, his answer was simple, have you heard a fish making sound? (Glad that at least dolphins would survive his voracious desire to eat any fish. He would even eat tadpoles. And of course he will say Dolphin is not a fish, it’s a mammal. This seemingly dumb friend becomes a great scientist when it comes to defending his food preference.  Then I talked to my South Indian friend. He didn’t disappoint me either with his fallacy. According to him anything that causes a life to begin is a non-veg. Unfortunately, he forgot the seeds that we eat. He is a civil engineer so how would he understand vegetative reproduction? His biology in college was limited to human anatomy only. And that to only specific good-looking humans.

During my first year being a North Dakotan, I went Deer hunting (it was just Deer pushing for me) with a colleague of mine. My friend and his family met me at a remote town in North Dakota. My wife had made lunch rolls with Indian flat breads enough for 4 of us. After we got our first kill, a nice grown up buck, we took a break. We all were hungry after 3-4 hours of walk thru’ snow, dirt and grass. I took the vegi-rolls out of my sack and handed it to my friend, his brother & his dad. They all loved the mildly spicy rolls as they ate them with Deer blood on their hands.

I thought it was kind of barbaric. But that’s when it occurred to me, wouldn’t my wife be thinking the same way when I am eating chicken or my Granny who fainted at the sight of eggs in my mom’s fridge?

Well, I had a whole 2 hour to drive back home & ponder over this question. As I got home, a nice smell of fresh bread and spicy curry welcomed me. It was great to eat the home cooked meal after a day’s worth of hard labor.

When you have the food you like and get to eat it with someone you love, does it really matter what veg or non-veg is?

 (Original Pictures’ Credit: newvitruvian.com)

My Encounter With English

 Most of the Indians are like me. Well, you may blame me for being a stereo type but I believe it’s true. We all think that we speak English. Well, while it’s true that we speak English but the English we speak and the English that’s spoken in the US is quite different. Firstly, there are slangs, then there is accent, if that’s not sufficient there is a whole new vocabulary that’s utterly confusing and lastly the spellings. Moreover, if you have migrated here and most likely you speak Queen’s English. It doesn’t matter if you came here 2 years ago or 20 years ago. Some things never change, I guess.

Just to give you an example, imagine you are in Fargo, ND and you are looking for a pair of jeans of a specific brand. (I have never understood why one pant is called a pair of pants but a shirt is not called pair of shirts) You walk in to a store and ask a sales person what you are looking for. Now at this time, assuming he/she understands what you are looking for, you are expecting a “yes” or a “no” or a “may be” as an answer. But what you actually hear in response is “You Betcha!” Now how in the world would you know that this means “YES”. (The capitalization & bold face is to show the utmost confidence in the answer).

So Indian English, as one of my ex-colleagues used to say, is Queen’s English. Obviously, we learned it from British and kept the same as our identity. English speaking skills of an Indian are known by the speed of the delivery and number of un-understandable(?) words he/she uses. Irrespective of whether we are communicating or not, the aim is to prove how good our English is, especially when you are in meetings or discussing worldly matters over scotch. With beer you typically don’t go beyond the neighborhood you live in.

Especially the nouns we use in India and the nouns we use here in America are very different. For example, when I bought my first car in US, I had to unlearn and relearn names of several parts again. When I started driving and getting directions from my friends (American friends), I did have to learn a new Geo-Dictionary as well. What we call stop-light here in US is called a “Signal” in India. I had a tough time understanding the concept of “yield”. In a city in India that I came from, Pune, there is no such concept of yield. Normally it takes an hour for six miles there (depending on time of the day), so if we keep “yielding”, we may never reach the destination. There will actually be a traffic jam… sorry traffic clog… like a drain clog. Traffic jam in Pune means traffic is flowing at an average speed. Everyone will only be “yielding” everyone.

I really like British accent but it’s hard to understand, at least for me. I had no problem understanding most of the American accent but that was while watching movies so you could always turn to someone to verify what’s going on if you couldn’t follow. But the problem starts at cash registers. Cash registers in department stores are not movies. I invariably had trouble there. Say you are at the cash register in a grocery store and the lady is scanning each item and passing it on to a bagger. The bagger asks you something.  All you understand in that sentence is “OK?” So you are naturally going to say “Okay”! Onetime I forgot I was in the US and nodded and the bagger looked confused he asked me again. Indians (especially new comers) are the creatures with extremely flexible necks. Any ways, you say okay and the life is good. But what happens when you have a “go-green” freak with you?

Well what happens is that you look like an idiot. Well, I had a friend from Chicago visiting the great prairie in Fargo and we went grocery shopping. The bagger, as usual, asked me “something ok?” And the “go-green” freak with me said not-ok. Huh! What’s wrong with him? I told the bagger that he is visiting here for the first time and he is okay. But the freak opens his mouth again and says “paper”. The bagger says “you betcha!”  What in the world was that? On that day I leaned what I had missed out for last several months. As it turned out that the bagger used to ask me “Is plastic okay?”  As they say learning has no age limit, I will say it has no place restriction either. By the way when I told this to my wife that this is what we were missing out, she promptly said (and in front of the freak) that it was not “we”.   She had become American within a week or two of her arrival while I was only physically here even after several months.

The vocabulary creates tremendous funny situations.

I was trying to teach my son how a light-bulb works and so I wanted to build a small battery-operated device with a switch. We wanted to buy a light-bulb, batteries, wire and a switch.

We went to Menards. (Later on, I discovered RadioShack. My joy that time could only be compared to Columbus’s when he found America) Not knowing where to find these components, we decided to ask a sales person. Here is how it went –

I: “Excuse me!”

He: “Howdy? What can I do for you?

I: “(Howdy?). Umm… I am looking for a bulb.” That’s what we call a light-bulb as In India.

He: “Ah! You need go through the double door on the east. That’s where we carry them.

He told me as if I was asking for directions to Washington Monument. We went through the double door and garden supplies. (I didn’t know what a double door was but we found a door that was twice the size of normal door). I promptly asked for a bulb. And I was directed to an onion or beat root looking thing. I wasn’t sure how would I connect a battery to it. I asked another sales person that I was looking for a “bulb” and not a root. She was confused and said that’s all they had.

We marched back to the earlier sales person. Again we start….

Me: “Excuse me!

Him: “Yup!” Came out a very crisp sound.

Me: “I couldn’t find bulb.

I could see he was clueless. Within few minutes, he had forgotten that he had told me to go to garden supplies for bulb. After I explained to him, he remembered.

Him: “Didn’t they have bulbs there?

Me: “Yes, yes, …But no!” (A typical rest less puzzled Indian) “I am looking for different bulbs. The one we get light from.

Him: “Ooooooohhhh! You need a light bulb. Well go to electrical section.

That “Ooohhh” was lot better sounding than his crisp yup was. On we went again. Now to electrical section. We found it and found several light-bulbs too. But I was looking for a small battery operated one so I found another sales person.

Me: “Excuse me!

Her: “Uh huh!” She said without even looking at me.

Me: “I am looking for a light-bulb.” I improvised.

Her: “Yep! Here they are!” Signing me to follow her and bring me to the stack of light-bulbs we had already seen.

Me: “No madam, I am looking for a small one.

She showed me a small one.

Me: “I need smaller”. I could have easily said I need a 3V light-bulb. As I said I knew how to speak English and not necessarily know how to communicate with it.

Her: “That’s all we got.

Thinking that they might be getting smaller light-bulbs soon, I asked.

Me: “So, when are you getting smaller?” Meant to ask when is the store going to get next shipment of smaller light-bulbs.Her: “Sorry?” a

Lucky for me that she didn’t understand the question. As what was asked about light bulb could easily have been considered as a personal question about her size.

At this point I gave up. But fortunately, another sales person came to her rescue and she asked if he could help me and she excused herself.

I repeated the whole story to this guy and he realized my “communication” problem and asked me to describe it.

Me: “It’s a small one typically they use it in torches.” Now that’s what we call a flashlight in India.

Her: “Ah there you are! You need a torch”.

She said joyously. I said to myself, what difference does it make? I will buy the torch and remove the bulb for the demo to my son and put it back again. I needed to buy a torch anyway so let’s do it today.

We went to a section where there was oil and long sticks and lighter fluid. He took out a stick with a wick on it and said “Here you go. That’s a torch you are looking for!”.

Well, I didn’t know what to say so my wife came to my help. She asked the sales girl that we are looking for a battery. In India a battery is also a flash-light.

Now this girl too was confused but she brought us to yet another section and showed us batteries. Now in India we called them cells, so I told her, I was not looking for cells. She told me they don’t carry cells and these are batteries. It was a situation for yet another Britain-America war but luckily was defused quickly by my son saying he was hungry and he needed to go to McDonalds.

Well so we ended up buying nothing and I wasn’t able to teach him the battery-operated light-bulb device. Lucky for him as my efforts to turn on his Engineering gene failed by not being able to describe a light-bulb. Later on, he went on to study medicine and becoming a doctor.

I still wonder what would have happened to him if we had found a right light-bulb then.

(Pictures’ Credit: newvitruvian.com)