Hyphenated-Homestead

Hey there! So, it’s Day 2 of my American adventure, and guess what? Still haven’t given my mom a ring to let her know I made it here in one piece. It’s already halfway through the day. (Do you need to fill in on the crazy first 24+ hours I’ve had so far? Let me spill the beans here.)

So, it’s pushing 2 pm in Clemson (August 3rd, ’99), which is basically the middle of the night back in Pune, India. I didn’t want to disturb my mom when I first got to Nilay’s place, so the plan was to hit her up in the evening my time, her morning. But then, bam! Mr. Barefoot and my apartment came into the picture, and I crashed out like a log. Now, I’m feeling pretty darn guilty. I mean, she has no other way of knowing if I’m okay, and the only lifeline we’ve got is a simple phone call. And guess what? I haven’t made that call yet.

I’m on a mission to Nilay’s place again. Honestly, I don’t know anywhere else to go or anyone else to turn to right now.

So, picture this – I knock on Nilay’s door and his buddy swings it open, asking if Nilay’s around. But nope, he’s off to school for his job. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Hey, I need to make a call to India. I haven’t checked in with my mom since I landed. Can I, please? I swear I’ll cover the charges once I’m settled. Please,” I pleaded. His friend gives me this crazy look and goes, “You haven’t even told anyone in India that you’re safe? Sure, go ahead, but it’s 12:45 am in India right now. Middle of the night. You sure anyone will be awake? You don’t want to freak them out.”

“No, no, it’ll be quick. I just want her to know I’m here and okay.” So, armed with instructions on dialing out to India, I started punching in the numbers.

011 91…

Guess what? It didn’t even ring once on the other end, and there’s my mom’s voice. “Mandar – where are you? Are you OK? Did you eat anything since you landed? I’ve been waiting by the phone all day long. (In Marathi) Tu Theek Aahes Na Mazya Rajya. (Translated in English) Tell me, are you really OK, my prince?”

My brother is in the background, telling her to chill and let me talk. But all I wanted was to hear her voice. It was like a soothing balm. In that moment, I knew there was one person in this world who cared just about me. The rest of the world could feel against me, but my mom was there.

I pulled myself together and replied, “Yes, mom. Everything’s fine. No issues since I landed. I was picked up by the student association, got my own apartment, slept well, ate well – I’m good, really good. Sorry for not calling last night; it’s expensive to call from here. And I don’t have a phone yet. I wanted to call only when I was settled. I’m so sorry, but don’t worry; I’m doing great.”

When you tell a fib to your mom just so she doesn’t worry, it’s not really a fib. I couldn’t spill the beans about what went down since I landed because I knew she hadn’t slept or left the phone’s side for an entire day, just waiting to hear from me. And it’s been more than 2 days since I left home.

“Mom – listen. I can’t call every day; it’s expensive. I’ll email you every single day once I get to the University, I promise. But I need to get my own phone first. So, don’t panic if you don’t hear from me. I swear, once I get the phone, I’ll call every weekend.”

You know that day was something else. I’ve never fed Mom a line before, but I had to that time. Even though she acted like she bought every word, deep down, she knew I was hurting. But then she did something amazing, she had this unwavering faith in me. She knew the grind it took me to get here, and she hit me with something that felt like a superpower. She just said, “I know you can do it. Never let anyone else tell you otherwise. You’re my tiger. You’ve got more than what it takes to rock this place. Just be patient! I’ll be right here waiting for your next phone call.”

With tears welling up, I showered the friend with thanks. He knew the weight of that first call to home. He just gave me this solid, reassuring nod.

Then, he turns to me and goes, “So, you’re ready to snag your ‘Tiger Card.’ I was like, “Tiger Card?” “Yeah – your student ID. It’s called Tiger Card in Clemson.”

Mom was so spot on.

It was time to grab that Tiger Card and face every day like a tiger. There is no looking back now!

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