In a world where dark clouds seem to gather every few days, it’s so uplifting when one encounters a shooting star. One night, on a cab ride back from JFK to New York, I found one such star in the cab driver. We started talking, and I learned of his story.

“I immigrated here from Pakistan thirty-five years ago at the age of 21. I worked at a Burger King, and then later took to driving a cab.”

And then he said something that made my ears perk up. “This country allows anybody to achieve whatever they wish to achieve. I love this country.”

“Tell me more,” I said, mentally recounting my own journey to America at the same age of 21.

“One’s achievements are not simply about what one does, but also the family one raises,” he said. “Because when I die, God will ask me, ‘What did you do with your life? Did you raise your children well? Did you love them and prepare them well for the world?'”

So I asked him to tell me about his children. He has five – three daughters and two sons.

“Three of them are doctors,”, he then added, “One of them took another path, to study law. She is a deputy attorney general.”

“And what about the fifth?” I asked.

“He is in medical school. So he too will one day be a doctor.”

My jaw dropped. What an amazing story of an immigrant who came with nothing but his dream.

“They must be very Americanized now,” I conjectured.

“Yes, when they go out to work, they fit right in. And when they come back home, they are deeply connected with our culture and our faith.”

I then asked, “As a muslim, do you do your Namaaz five times a day?”

“Yes I do that. Every day.” His tone indicated some puzzlement, as though saying, “Why would you ever doubt that?”

But I kept going. “I notice some people go through the motions of prayer, while their mind is elsewhere. What about you?”

“Prayer must be done with devotion, with full heart and mind,” he spoke solemnly. “That’s how I strive to do it.”

“I am very glad to hear that,” I replied. “It is something I admire greatly in the Muslim faith, this discipline of pausing whatever you’re doing to connect with the purest part of you and with the Universe, five times a day.”

As we arrived at my apartment building, I thanked him for sharing his story — and for reminding me about why I too feel such a debt of gratitude toward a nation that welcomed me into its fold 30 years ago, opened up so many pathways and vistas for me, all without ever making me feel I wasn’t welcome, and without requiring me to give up what I see as quintessentially Indian in me.

Wherever your path brings you, I hope you always feel welcomed.

Warmly,
Hitendra

PS: This is an example of a perspective – a commentary about something small or big going on in the world that can offer an insight about life or humanity. I used the story of the cab driver to offer a perspective on immigration, patriotism, gratitude, prayer, and the moments we share with strangers.

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