Ishan and his Nani.
I am posting this article on behalf of my son Ishan Levy, who is a rising junior at Princeton University majoring in mathematics. He can be reached at ilevy@princeton.edu
Like many Americans, I am deeply pained by the cruelty of President Trump’s ban on visits to grandparents living in the United States. Below is an essay that I wrote as part of my college application, which describes the impact that my own grandmother had on my upbringing. I strongly identify with those whose close relationships are directly impacted by this senseless ban.
My grandmother, parents, brother, and I solemnly walked to the gate at the Pittsburgh International airport, and heard the announcement that my grandmother’s flight to Paris enroute to New Delhi was ready for boarding. I was only three, and was about to be separated from my grandmother for the first time. As my grandmother and I hugged and said our goodbyes, tears rolled down our faces. Even though I was not sure how long she would be gone, I just got this feeling I wouldn’t be seeing her for a long time.
In Indian culture, it is common for children to stay with their grandparents at an early age. My maternal grandmother came to Pittsburgh immediately after I was born and when I was six months old, I went to live with her and my grandfather who in India are called “Nani” and “Nana”. I thrived with them in Patna, India, learning the culture and language, and meeting many other Indian relatives. Over the years I grew very close to my Nani. She would always hand-feed me, bathe me and talk to me in Hindi about everything under the sun. She would tell me many Indian stories and even play with me. I fondly gave her the nickname “Nanish”. We were inseparable. Because I was living away from my parents and older brother, she often showed me their pictures on her living room wall so that I would recognize them when I eventually returned to the US.
After two years my parents wanted me back. Nani flew with me to Pittsburgh and stayed for six months to get me adjusted. Because she told me about my family members routinely, I easily integrated with them and started going to preschool. I quickly learned English and soon, Nani’s assistance in every small and big thing was no longer required.
When Nani left after getting me adjusted in Pittsburgh, for several weeks, I felt very lonely without her and I especially missed her at bedtime. When we talked on the phone, she told me she was always there with me in spirit and was always blessing me even in my most difficult times. Even till this day, talking to her makes my day.
With school, piano, soccer and other things, time flew by. When I was nine, my Nana became very ill. We were on our way to visit him and Nani but by the time our plane touched down in India, he passed away. Nana was a retired head of the Indian police. At his funeral, which was an elaborate thirteen day long Hindu ceremony in which all male members in the family got their heads shaved, a strange thought haunted me. I felt that in all my time in India, I hadn’t gotten to know my Nana nearly as well as I would have liked to. And now that he was gone, I would never have the opportunity to get to know him better. I felt I had blown away the opportunity to treasure the moments with him.
When I was little, I had simply taken Nani’s company for granted. Last year, my Nani visited us in Pittsburgh for two months. It was wonderful having her around although she felt dizzy throughout her stay having developed benign positional vertigo. I enjoyed holding her hand while she went up the stairs for a bath and brought things over to her so she wouldn’t have to overexert herself. I was sad when she went back to India. Fortunately, the bond we built over the first few years would stay with me forever and continue to be a source of eternal pleasure.