England is run by Persons of Indian Origin (PIO)

Recently, as I landed at the Heathrow airport, Immigration Officer looked at my passport, and asked: “Uncle, visiting family? How long are you staying this time?”

The young officer was a smart Indo-British girl, dressed in salwar-kameej. There are nearly 25 lakhs first, second and third generation Indians in the United Kingdom. Practically, in every street and town, underground tube stations, grocery shops and the Shopping Malls, you are not far from the Indian-effect. In schools and colleges, and libraries in every town and city, we have facilities to teach and learn Sanskrit, Hindi, Gujarati, Panjabi, Kannada, Tamil, Bengali, Urdu, and Orriya. Indian food and Bollywood films are galore. In fact, forty percent transport system and health services in the United Kingdom, are serviced by PIO- Persons of Indian Origin.

If you order a taxi or rental car, you will be greeted by a friendly PIO. You can buy mirch-masalas, mangoes and ready to serve Indian meals, thalis, well prepared and well-cooked by Mother India’s women most of them still not to understand the cockney of the native Englishman.

Near the Buckinghum Palace, on the Mall, I stopped a police man for direction. The Bobby was a PIO, second generation Indian, married to an Irish lady with 2 young kids. One day he wanted to take his family to show them his ancestral village home in India. Another PIO – a south-Indian Brahmin, married a Gujrati muslim girl with three grown up children and a few grandchildren. How many brave Sikhs have made experimental associations is difficult to assess. One young Gujrati Brahmin boy falls in love with another Gujrati girl of a lower caste. But because of parental disapproval, they officially remained unmarried for long 10 years. Some Sikh and muslim parents had committed “honour killing” of their girls in love with native white boys.

I cannot forget the Sikh gentleman with whom my destiny had forced to travel during one of my return journey to India. The man around 65, was a practicing Sikh with all the six Ks decorated on him. He was disgusted with his life in Britain as his wife, mother of 4 grown-up children, had now turned “You know what?” She had developed intimate relations with a white woman and refuses to sleep with him. He had given the shop to her and was now returning to Panjab to settle his share of property in his parental village. He was unhappy that his brothers in India were refusing to part with his share in a farm land. When I ordered a hard drink - he asked my permission - “OK if I take little drink with you? You know, I am a Sikh and I do not take drink. But if you say, it is OK, so it is OK. “

Now he poured out his life story, how some 40 years ago, there was a fight in his village and unintentionally someone got hurt ( or killed). He ran away to England, imported a panjabi girl and settled near Edinburgh. Good 40 years, with little education, but with hard work he managed to build a small scale business enterprise. Now he was returning to his village to reclaim his share of lost property…” I have left my family back in Britain. No, the family had abandoned me.- even my sons do not come near me. This morning I asked the youngest one to drop me to the airport ,he refused. I ordered a taxi. My wife did not even come down from her girl friend’s room to say good-bye.” The man cried for my sympathy.

The co-passenger had dogged off for a while when the airhostess announced the breakfast as we were reaching the Indian sky over the Himalaya. He woke up praying “Wahe guruji ..”
After refreshing, the man asked me what should he do for his remaining years in life.

“You see, you cannot jump of this plane, nor could you now go back to England where no one wants you. Either you go jump in the Holy Ganga at Hardwar. Or the best for you to go straight to Amritsar, at the Swarn Mandir ( Golden Temple) and clean the floors, pick up the shoes of the prilgrims. In no case, should you fight with your brothers for the farm land..”
At the Indira Gandhi New Delhi Airport the gentle man did not turn to say good-bye…