By: Samiksha Varadarajan
“I joined Farsi school when I got married to my wife, but my kids and I can’t speak the language.” “As an American whose roots were long lost in the vast expanse of the word European, I never expected such immersion into any specific culture, but that all changed when I met my wife. She was an immigrant from Iran who came to complete her schooling in the US and she was extremely brilliant. We met when we worked in the same university and soon got married. She was here on a student visa, and worried that returning to Iran may lead to uncertainty in her return to the US. Nevertheless, her return to Iran did not result in many issues and although I’ve never been, my in-laws visit the US often. When they visit, I can never understand what exactly they are saying, but I can always pick up when my wife or her siblings are gossiping about me. What I didn’t realize was that the ability to trace their cultural backgrounds and speak their mother tongue fluently allowed them a sense of camaraderie that I could not share. The first time I joined Farsi school, I joined with my sister-in-law, and spent a few years there before other commitments took its place. When my two girls, twins, were born, I was delighted. My wife and I wanted the kids to grow up bilingual, but we were thwarted when doctors advised that learning two languages at once may confuse our premature babies. When my kids were old enough to comprehend English well, the three of us enrolled in Farsi school--the second time for me, we spent another few years learning about the language and culture. But we again got caught up in other activities, my kids with running, and I with teaching commitments, and we were unable to fulfill my wife’s wish of at least one of us sharing her culture and her language completely. Today, my daughters, wife, and I still live in Maryland, with my kids pursuing doctoral degrees, and my wife and I working in safety regulations for food and teaching, respectively. We all understand when my wife yells something in her native language, but speaking in her native tongue for her to rejoice presents itself as a barrier we have yet to overcome.”
Samiksha's Connection:
As a first generation immigrant, I am able to understand the feeling of a loss of cultural connection, but in my case, with my parents, as I was not brought up in my native country. Often times, I speculate the differences between my life here and my possible life in India and imagine how different it would be if I was a native of the country that I lived in, rather than an isolated foreigner. With this detachment from my culture and language, I attempt to cultivate it by learning the arts of dance, music, and literature, as well as returning to India whenever possible. But even though I am in touch with my culture through arts, my ability to speak the language has waned over the years through constant use of English, and my stance as quadrilingual seems like a fabricated past. My constant doubt over my ability to pass on a country to future generations plagues me constantly, connecting me to the future aspirations of my subject.
