{"id":630,"date":"2019-12-09T00:53:38","date_gmt":"2019-12-09T00:53:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/new.saritasarvate.com\/?p=630"},"modified":"2021-12-15T00:57:47","modified_gmt":"2021-12-15T00:57:47","slug":"kamala-harris-amma-an-unlikely-soulmate","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oldweb.saritasarvate.com\/?p=630","title":{"rendered":"Kamala Harris\u2019 Amma, an Unlikely Soulmate"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Until recently, American elections used to evoke in me, not angst, but wonder.\u00a0 When Bill Clinton ran for president, I watched The<\/em> Man from Hope, <\/em>a documentary about his life, over and over again, feeling inspired by the story of a boy who rose from an abusive childhood to reach the highest office in the world.<\/h3>\n

Through the summer of 2008, as the world teetered on the edge of a financial meltdown and my mother lay dying in our house in Nagpur, I sat by her bedside, reading Barack Obama\u2019s memoir, Dreams from my Father<\/em>, and marveling at the miracle of America.<\/h3>\n

Even today, as a criminal occupies the White House and I dread the demise of the American promise, I come across the story of Shymala Gopalan<\/a> and feel I\u2019ve met my soulmate.<\/h3>\n

I am talking of Kamala Harris<\/a>\u2019 mother, who, until recently, I did not know was Indian.\u00a0 Why, as Harris rose through the political ranks, she never spoke of her mother, remains a mystery, but I find Shyamala to be a fascinating figure.\u00a0 I can\u2019t imagine a young woman from Madras \u2013 now Chennai \u2013 venturing into the University of California, Berkeley, at a time when few Indians had even heard of the place.<\/h3>\n

I recall when I was a school kid in the 1960s and America was just entering into my consciousness.\u00a0 The Kennedys had appeared on the world scene and Jackie Kennedy was visiting India.<\/h3>\n

I imagine the young Shyamala leaving Madras, a place of Hindu orthodoxy and spicy food, and arriving alone in Berkeley just as the \u201860s were in the offing.\u00a0 I can envision her being thrown into the tumult of Vietnam War protests and civil rights movements.<\/h3>\n

Nearly two decades later, I arrived in Berkeley to find myself just as exotic as Shyamala once was.\u00a0 In the \u201870s, there were still very few Indian women on campus and even fewer role models to follow.<\/h3>\n

How had Shyamala navigated this terrain nearly twenty years earlier?\u00a0 What were her guiding principles?\u00a0 Did she find Berkeley\u2019s liberal politics and culture just as invigorating as I found it?\u00a0 Did the Americans of Berkeley, a breed unto themselves, wrap their arms around her just as they had done around me?\u00a0 Did she relish this place where she could live without restrictions or fear of judgment, just as I had done? \u00a0Did she welcome the absence of expectations?<\/h3>\n

I am convinced that she did.\u00a0 Why else would she fall in love with a black man from Jamaica?\u00a0 Why, when it became imperative, would she divorce him and strike out on her own as a single mother?<\/h3>\n

But the question that haunts me is this: how did Shyamala have the courage of her conviction that I\u2019ve had to struggle to maintain?<\/h3>\n

Arriving in the US decades after Shyamala, I experienced the stigma of divorce out of my arranged marriage. I was ostracized, not by the Americans, but by the Indian community, which had just begun forming in the Silicon Valley.\u00a0 Later, I felt the taboo of my marriage to a white Englishman.<\/h3>\n

I felt I had been wronged.<\/h3>\n

But Shyamala overcame so much more.\u00a0 When Kamala mentions that her grandparents had no telephone and had to rely on writing flimsy aerograms that took two weeks to arrive in Berkeley, I tear up.\u00a0 Decades after I arrived in the US, my parents too did not have a phone.\u00a0 For them, calling me involved an expedition at a prearranged time to my cousin\u2019s house in another suburb.<\/h3>\n

I imagine that the lack of communication made it easier for Shyamala to break away, to assimilate into North American society; to eventually take the professorship in medical research at McGill University in Montreal and move her two daughters there.<\/h3>\n

Just as it had enabled me to strike on my own path.<\/h3>\n

Recently, I came across a picture of Shyamala walking her daughters to an elementary school in Berkeley.\u00a0 In the photo, she is wearing black stockings, a short plaid skirt, matching vest, and a black blouse.\u00a0 With her strong Indian features, curly hair, and beaded earrings, she looks like a woman who is working hard to assimilate.\u00a0 The picture reminds me of the first skirt and vest outfit I had purchased nearly forty years ago for attending job interviews.\u00a0 With my knee-length hair and off-the-boat expression, I\u2019d perhaps looked just as out of place in it as Shyamala had done.<\/h3>\n

The thought fills me with a kinship that I haven\u2019t experienced with any other immigrant female. I marvel at the miracle of our nation which, every four years, presents us with unique stories of the American journey.<\/h3>\n

Sarita Sarvate (<\/i>www.saritasarvate.com<\/i><\/a>) has published commentaries for New America Media, KQED FM, San Jose Mercury News, the Oakland Tribune, and many nationwide publications.<\/i><\/h3>\n

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this article are the personal opinions of the author. The facts and opinions appearing in the article do not reflect the views of India Currents and India Currents does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.<\/em><\/h3>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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