The other day, I was sitting in Mocha Moment, the cafe on the other side of town. There are hardly any good cafes in this city to hang out. I have had a long affinity with cafes. They have played an important role in my life. Mocha Moment is probably the only place here that serves this purpose. So, once in a while, I go there and hang out.

This day, I was just sitting there on a table by the window. Another person I had run in to there some time ago, Richard Wunder, saw me and came by. He sat down and we started having a nice conversation. Richard is an artist, in his early 80’s and with a broad outlook. We enjoy each other’s company. We never plan our meetings; they always happen per chance, once in a while, when I stop by at Mocha to pickup some coffee beans.

This afternoon, we were just sitting, and a man popped up from nowhere. He bent down and put his face, almost next to mine, and started talking in rapid fire. Are you an Indian? Are you Patel. (He didn’t even say it right, with emphasis on wrong syllables). I knew a Patel. Oh, they are something else. He owned a motel. His son works at a gas station. Oh, Indians are smart. And on and on he went. I couldn’t get a word in. His body language was sending a different message. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I said – noooo! I am NOT a Patel. I am not a frog either. I see a broad horizon, beyond my pond. He didn’t get it. What would be the point. The damage was already done. As it has happened at many other times in the past. It hurts.

We immigrants work so hard to be a part of America like anyone else. Our American was not given to us. We were not born with it. We have worked very hard to earn it. It is an immense labor of love. We appreciate it, value it, and do everything we can to preserve it. We want nothing more than be regarded and accepted, like anyone else. But, alas, the skin color, and accent, comes in the way.

I came to America over 40 years ago, which is longer than more than half of America’s population today. I have been a citizen for over 28 years. My gestation period was much longer as well. Way over nine months. I have been preparing, studying, and learning about America for nearly 20 years, before I came here. Also, I did not come here for a bigger paycheck, or to escape any atrocities in India. India is a fine country, with centuries of culture and wisdom. It is the birth place of Buddhism, Yoga, Ayurveda, and much more.

I came here because I truly wanted to experience a wider world. Different cultures. I really appreciated American values and concepts of freedom, dignity, and anything is possible if you try ethos. In comparison, the studies show that more than half the school children today don’t even know who JFK was, and some can’t even recall Abraham Lincoln.

I came here in 1984, as a foreign student. As such, I had to pay out of state tuition, which was more than twice as much. Also, as a foreign student, I was not eligible for any student loans, financial aid, scholarships, or grants. I was not even allowed to work, with one exception. I could work on campus, at minimum wage, which was $3.35 per hour at the time. Even there, there was a limit of 20 hours per week.

I had come with about $23,000 in savings. But, with the high tuition and living expenses, that money was running out fast. The tuition was capped at 12 credits. Above that, additional classes didn’t cost more. So, I took on extra credits as well, to be able to save money and graduate as quickly as possible. I was doing 18 credit. Still, I could see problems ahead. My money would soon run out.

So, I decided to seek advice and find help. I wrote a letter to the Chancellor, Dr. James O’Connor, describing my situation and predicament. A few days later, his secretary, Susan, called and said that Dr. Connor wanted to see me. I went to his office, quite nervous. We met. He did not ask me anything. I still remember that meeting very vividly.

As soon as I entered his office, he smiled and asked me to sit down. The first words that he spoke were, “Anil, here is what we are going to do”:

• We will wave your out of state tuition, with retroactive effect. Meaning, I will have to pay in-state tuition only. It also meant that the additional out-of-state portion that I had paid in the past three semesters will be reverted back to me, and applied towards the following semesters.
• Next, that his secretary has already arranged work for me at the university store. I am to go and see John Hapka, the store manager, the same afternoon.

He wished me good luck and let me go. I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, and relieved. All of a sudden, my problems were solved. But, this was only the beginning, as I will find out a few months later.

I went to see John Hapka. A thoroughly delightful, pipe smoking, man. He put me to work right away. My first job was to go to different buildings and take inventory of the furniture. Count chairs and desks in the class rooms, furniture and lamps in the offices, and write the counts on the clip board. Some residence halls were getting renovated and items were being marked for sale. Student desks for $3, chairs for $2, and dressers for $5. I bought one myself, and still have it! I did a lot of tagging. John and I became good friends as well.

This humble beginning led to many other successes. A few months later, I got another call from Dr. Connor’s office. Susan, his secretary, wanted to see me. I went over there. She said, “Our graduate student who was managing the computer in our office, has suddenly left. He has transferred to Madison. Dr. Connor wants you to take his place, and manage the database”. She said, I don’t even know how to turn it on, and what is in there.

I didn’t know how to respond. I said, I don’t know anything about the computers or databases. She said, this is a university. Learn it! There are professors. I have already called Professor so and so. You go and see him. He will tell you what to do. And, by the way, we pay $8.75 an hour, more than twice of what I was getting at store, at $3.35 an hour.

I figured out, It was Dr. Connor’s way of helping me, while preserving my dignity.

It was 1986. PC’s were just emerging and computer applications came with very extensive manuals. The database program Dr. Connor’s office was using was called dBase III. I met the professor and he guided me through. I went to the library and checked out several manuals. I spent the entire weekend in the computer lab and figured out the basics of dBase III. I could launch the program, open the database file, view the records, select reports, and print them out. That’s what Susan, Dr. Connor’s secretary wanted to do. I was all excited. I couldn’t wait to go to her office on Monday morning and show what I had learned.

So, I went to Dr. Connor’s office on Monday morning and told Susan that I have figured it out. She said, ok. Turn it on. Those days, computers did not have graphic interface. They were analog. When you turned them on, a blue screen appeared on the monitor, with a blinking white dot on bottom left. It used to be called DOT Prompt. We had to type in commands, and press enter. If the command was correct, expected response appeared.

I turned on the computer. Dot prompt came. My hand was probably shaking. I carefully entered the command, and pressed enter. Those, days computers did not respond instantly; they took a few milliseconds. To me, that day, it was an eternity. Finally, screen lit up, and started scrolling with student records, row after row. Susan was watching over my shoulder. She jumped up, and screamed. You have done it! Didn’t I tell you, you can!

It is hard to describe my feeling. I felt great. That experience changed the trajectory of my career. Many good things happened after that. I was planning on doing my MBA in Marketing. I changed my major to Information Technology.

I got several other opportunities as well at UW-Whitewater. They had recently started a minority affairs department, and wanted to create a Uniform Minority Information System database (UMIS). They had also hired a new vice chancellor for the program, Dr. Roger Pulliam. I got a call from Dr. Pulliam. He wanted me to come and see him. He said, he wants me to develop the database for this new program. Dr. Connor has already cleared it. I will get whatever resources I need.

He gave me an independent office, the equipment needed, and also assigned two students to work with me. My office was twice the size of my professors. Our program was very successful. It helped us in keeping track of minority students success, and planning help and interventions as needed. We generated reports that went all the way to Washington DC to justify continued support of the program.

I graduated in time in 1992, with two degrees, a Bachelor’s in Marketing, and an MBA in Information Technology. Since I was not eligible for any loans, I came away with two degrees and zero debt. The hard work had paid off.

My final feather in the cap at UW was when I was offered a job as Information Specialist at UW-System, Madison, in the office of the university president at Bascom Hill. I took up that job soon after completing my MBA program and worked there for a year until leaving Wisconsin the following year.

The point is that America is a wonderful country. Help comes along when you need it, and if you are sincere. Also, you can succeed, if you are committed and willing to work hard towards your goal.

I had already gotten married an year ago, in 1991, to a woman from Janesville. She used to say, I married you because I believed you will take me away from Wisconsin. So, after graduation, I asked her, where do you want to go? She said, Colorado. I have always liked the mountains. I said OK.

We packed our bags and left for Denver on June 6, 1993. I didn’t have any job lined up, or anything. But, I had a lot of confidence and hope.

I found my first job within two months in Denver, at US West, the baby bell providing phone service to fourteen western states. Again, long stories, but I did well in my career.

People liked me and admired my work. But, I still felt being treated differently, sometimes nice different, and, at other times, otherwise. It was still hard to find assimilation, and true acceptance.

In 1996, we moved to California and lived there for twenty years. It was a different experience. There was a lot more diversity there. With the internet explosion, America needed a lot of skilled computer people, instantly, which we could not produce here, fast enough. India provided them. Many came here. They were accepted and respected.

When I joined PeopleSoft in the Silicon Valley, in 1997, there were only two Indians in the company. By the time I left there in 2005, there were hundreds. They did not take away jobs from Americans. We still had a huge shortage of skilled computer workers, and there still is, today.

I retired in 2015. The technology was changing rapidly. I was 62 years old. The next oldest person in the company was twenty years younger than me, at 42. I simply didn’t have the energy. In high tech industry, burn out rate is very high. You work on a global clock. If you can’t put in 14 hours a day, you can’t survive.

Even after retirement, the pressure was still there. I was still breathing the same air. Recruiters still called. I had a lot of experience, but no gas in the tank. It was hard to ignore the temptations. So, we decided to leave Silicon Valley and came back to Wisconsin in October 2016. We shipped the stuff here, and took a long five day road trip, from Redwood City, California to Janesville, Wisconsin. No more manic Mondays.

But, It has not been easy. I had forgotten being treated different, but it comes to fore here every so often. People still ask me here, where are you from. I hear the question, but it is the tone that matters. Sometimes, what I hear is not, where are you from, but, why are you here? To that tone, I answer, I am from this planet. Where are you from? They get surprised, and go silent.

I encourage curiosity, because it is a virtue. I am very curious myself. If I find other curious people, we are kindred souls. We can engage in curious discussions and learn from each other. I enjoy the conversations and companionship. But, prejudice is something else. It hurts.

Every religion professes that there is only one God, and he has created everything. All of us. He created this earth, mountains, oceans, land, and all creatures. What he certainly did not create were boundaries, silos, and nations, which also come and go. Then, how come, some people are treated as children of a lesser God? Isn’t that short sighted, and an insult to our creator as well. I, carefully, use the word short sighted, because history is evidence that creation of silos and nations has not solve any problems. It has only created wars, misery, unhappiness, and diminished human experience.

I have earned my America. It was not given to me. I did not inherit it. I was not born to it. I have really earned it, the hard way.

The biggest tragedy of the human experience is that we are born free, but are immediately tagged and put in to cages. We have a skin color, a country, a religion, a language, a social class, and more. This becomes our destiny. Most humans spend their entire lives in their cages. Some try to break free, and succeed. Many don’t. Nonetheless, it is a struggle. It is not easy. Doesn’t have to be this way, but that’s the way it is.

America is a great country. It is my country, it is your country. It is my home, it is your home. It is BIG. Please don’t make it small !

Thank you!