Anupam Upadhyay I know nothing!

Threads of Gold and Dreams - An Asian Tapestry in North America

The story of Asian immigration to North America isn’t a single, monolithic tale, easily summarized or quickly understood. Instead, it’s a vast, intricate tapestry woven over centuries with countless threads – threads shimmering with hope, strained by hardship, strengthened by ambition, and colored by resilience. This complex narrative stretches across both the United States and Canada, embedded not just in dusty history books and legislative archives, but lived out in the quiet determination of a farmer coaxing life from unfamiliar soil, the rhythmic clatter of pans in a bustling restaurant kitchen passed down through generations, the focused gaze of a student navigating the halls of a prestigious university, and the vibrant, sometimes tumultuous, celebrations that paint city streets with the hues of diverse homelands, becoming an undeniable part of the North American landscape. Crucially, every strand of this story has been profoundly shaped – pulled, stretched, and sometimes nearly broken – by the shifting tides of law, economic cycles, and the often volatile political sentiment within both nations.

The Lure of Opportunity & The Politics of Exclusion

The narrative often begins in the mid-19th century, a period marked by significant upheaval in Asia and burgeoning development in North America. In Southern China, the devastating Taiping Rebellion, combined with cycles of famine and intense poverty, created immense pressure for emigration. Simultaneously, news of opportunity, however exaggerated, rippled across the Pacific. In the United States, it was the siren call of “Gam Saan 金山,” Gold Mountain, drawing tens of thousands of young men, primarily Cantonese speakers from the Pearl River Delta, to California’s goldfields. Picture Leung Wei, our archetypal farmer or artisan, leaving his wife and child in his ancestral village, clutching tightly to the promise of returning wealthy. The journey itself was an ordeal – weeks or months spent in cramped, unsanitary conditions on crowded ships. Arrival brought not streets paved with gold, but grueling labor, intense competition, and pervasive hostility. He might have first tried his luck panning in icy mountain streams, facing discriminatory taxes levied specifically on foreign miners, before finding work on perhaps the era’s most ambitious project: the transcontinental railroad. This undertaking became notorious for its perilous conditions, especially for the Chinese workforce. Lacking precise records, estimates still suggest hundreds, possibly over a thousand, Chinese laborers perished from explosions, landslides, falls, disease, and brutal working conditions while building this monumental link across America. Leung Wei’s letters home, filled with remittances but also longing, paint a picture of sacrifice common to thousands.

Historic illustrative image of Chinese laborers working on the transcontinental railroad in mountainous terrain.

North of the border in Canada, a similar story unfolded, driven by the need for labor to build the Canadian Pacific Railway. Thousands of Chinese laborers were actively recruited, often under exploitative contracts, to undertake the most perilous sections through the treacherous mountains of British Columbia. Like their counterparts in the US, these men faced horrific working conditions – landslides, explosions, disease, freezing winters – alongside meager pay and profound social isolation. Their contributions were vital to nation-building, yet rarely acknowledged, and many died far from home, their sacrifices largely unrecorded.

Despite the reliance on their labor, the political climate on the West Coast of both countries quickly soured. Economic anxieties, particularly during downturns, merged with deeply ingrained, virulent anti-Asian racism to fuel the menacing “Yellow Peril” stereotype, portraying Asians as inherently foreign, unassimilable threats to Western society and labor. In the US, this toxic atmosphere spawned discriminatory state and local laws, ultimately culminating in federal action. Figures like Denis Kearney, an Irish immigrant himself, rose to prominence in California in the 1870s as a leader of the Workingmen’s Party. Kearney became infamous for his inflammatory anti-Chinese rhetoric, ending his speeches with the rallying cry, “The Chinese must go!” His agitation, blaming Chinese workers for economic woes, significantly fueled the political pressure leading to exclusion. This hostility wasn’t confined to rhetoric; it erupted into violence. Incidents like the Rock Springs Massacre in Wyoming in 1885 saw white miners attack their Chinese counterparts, killing at least 28, wounding 15, and driving hundreds out of town, burning their homes. Similar violent expulsions occurred in other Western towns. The Page Act of 1875 strategically targeted Chinese women, hindering family formation. This was swiftly followed by the landmark Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, banning Chinese laborers and barring Chinese immigrants from naturalization – the first US law targeting a specific nationality. Amidst this rising tide of Sinophobia, figures like Wong Chin Foo, a journalist and activist in New York City, emerged. Arriving before the Exclusion Act, he dedicated himself to combating negative stereotypes, lecturing widely, founding the first Chinese-language newspaper in the East (Chinese American), and famously challenging Denis Kearney to a duel (which Kearney declined). Wong even coined the term “Chinese American,” asserting a dual identity against the prevailing narrative of perpetual foreignness. His efforts highlight the early resistance against exclusion.

Cartoon showing Uncle Sam, with proclamation and can of Magic Washer, kicking Chinese out of the United States. Source: https://www.loc.gov/resource/pga.02758/

Canada, once the railway was complete, pursued its own path of exclusion. Rather than an outright ban initially, it imposed a punitive Chinese Head Tax starting in 1885. Initially set at $50, it was progressively increased to $500 by 1903 – a sum designed to deter entry. Anti-Asian sentiment was also potent in Canada, often stoked by politicians and labor groups. Organizations like the Asiatic Exclusion League, active in both the US and Canada, held rallies and lobbied governments for stricter exclusion laws. This climate contributed to incidents like the 1907 Anti-Asian Riots in Vancouver. Sparked by an Asiatic Exclusion League rally, a mob of several thousand white residents rampaged through Vancouver’s Chinatown and Japantown, vandalizing businesses and terrorizing residents before being repelled by community members defending themselves. Despite courageous legal challenges in the US, such as the landmark Yick Wo v. Hopkins (1886) which affirmed equal protection for non-citizens operating businesses, the overarching political will in both countries, often inflamed by specific agitators and punctuated by violence, remained firmly entrenched in favor of exclusion.

Waves Across the Pacific & Widening the Bar

As Chinese exclusion solidified, the political climate of nativism soon targeted other Asian groups arriving across North America. Japanese immigrants, arriving in larger numbers towards the end of the 19th century, found success in agriculture, fishing, and small businesses, particularly on the West Coast. However, their very success bred resentment and fear among the white population, fanned by figures like V.S. McClatchy, publisher of The Sacramento Bee, who became a leading voice advocating for Japanese exclusion, arguing they were unassimilable and posed a demographic threat. In the US, diplomatic pressure led to the informal Gentlemen’s Agreement of 1907, whereby the Japanese government agreed to voluntarily restrict the emigration of laborers to avoid the humiliation of formal exclusion legislation. Canada also sought restrictions through diplomatic negotiations and orders-in-council setting annual quotas.

The desire for broader Asian exclusion intensified continent-wide in the early 20th century. The US Immigration Act of 1917 (also known as the Asiatic Barred Zone Act) represented a major escalation of restrictive policies. Passed over President Woodrow Wilson’s veto and fueled by wartime nationalism (World War I) and long-standing nativist anxieties, this act introduced several significant barriers. It imposed a literacy test, increased the head tax, and expanded the categories of barred individuals. Most significantly for Asian immigration, the Act created the infamous “Asiatic Barred Zone,” drawing a line across the map encompassing British India, most of Southeast Asia, Afghanistan, Arabia, and numerous islands. Immigrants from countries within this vast zone were explicitly barred from entry, effectively shutting down immigration from nearly all of Asia, with notable exceptions for Japan and the Philippines (whose residents were still considered US nationals at the time). This Act codified racial prejudice into law on a massive geographic scale.

Meanwhile, Canada enacted its own insidious measures, notably the Continuous Journey Regulation of 1908. This required immigrants to arrive directly from their country of origin, using tickets purchased before leaving – a rule effectively blocking those from British India who typically had to make stops. The regulation’s harshness was starkly demonstrated by the Komagata Maru incident in 1914. Imagine Gurdit Singh Sandhu, the charterer of the Komagata Maru, a prosperous Singaporean businessman who sought to challenge the discriminatory regulation directly. He leased a Japanese steamship to transport 376 passengers – primarily Sikh men from Punjab, but also including Hindus and Muslims – directly to Canada, hoping to assert their rights as British subjects. However, upon arrival in Vancouver’s Burrard Inlet, immigration officials refused entry, citing the Continuous Journey Regulation. What followed was a tense two-month standoff. The passengers endured confinement, dwindling supplies, and deteriorating conditions. Despite support and legal challenges from the local South Asian community, Canadian courts upheld the government’s decision. Tensions escalated, culminating in a failed boarding attempt by authorities, repelled by the passengers. Finally, on July 23, 1914, the Canadian naval cruiser HMCS Rainbow escorted the Komagata Maru out of Canadian waters. The tragedy continued upon return to India, where British authorities, viewing the passengers as political agitators, attempted forcible transport, resulting in a violent confrontation and deaths. Many passengers were arrested or forced into hiding. Gurdit Singh’s bold challenge, intended to affirm rights, ultimately highlighted the determination to fight discriminatory laws but also resulted in immense suffering and underscored the harsh realities of imperial exclusion.

Komagata Maru (furthest ship on the left) being escorted by HMCS Rainbow and a swarm of small boats

Legal battles over racial prerequisites for citizenship further entrenched exclusion in the US. The Supreme Court case United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind (1923) delivered a major blow. Bhagat Singh Thind himself embodied the era’s complexities. A high-caste Indian immigrant and US Army veteran, he argued for citizenship based on scientific classifications identifying Indians as “Caucasian.” The Court’s rejection, based on “common understanding” of whiteness rather than scientific definitions, not only denied him citizenship but also led to the denaturalization of other South Asians previously granted citizenship. Thind’s case underscored the arbitrary and socially constructed nature of racial categories used to justify exclusion. This decision paved the way for the sweeping Immigration Act of 1924 (also known as the Johnson-Reed Act or National Origins Act) in the US. This act represented the culmination of decades of nativist efforts. It established a strict national origins quota system, deliberately designed to heavily favor immigrants from Northern and Western Europe while drastically limiting arrivals from Southern and Eastern Europe, based on the 1890 census demographics. Crucially for Asian immigrants, the Act included a provision barring entry to any “alien ineligible for citizenship.” Since previous laws and court decisions (Ozawa, Thind) had already declared virtually all Asians ineligible for naturalization based on race, this clause functioned as a near-complete ban on Asian immigration, allocating zero quotas to most Asian nations. The 1924 Act thus codified racial exclusion on an unprecedented scale. Similarly, Canada’s Chinese Immigration Act of 1923 (the “Exclusion Act”) slammed the door shut for Chinese immigrants. These laws created decades of hardship, family separation, and isolation for Asian communities across North America, dashing the hopes of countless families like Leung Wei’s for reunification.

During this period, Filipinos, initially considered US “nationals” after the US annexation of the Philippines and thus exempt from certain restrictions, also faced increasing discrimination despite their essential labor contributions, particularly in agriculture. Carlos Bulosan, arriving in the 1930s, became a powerful voice chronicling the Filipino experience of harsh labor and racism in his writings, most famously America Is in the Heart, exposing the gap between American ideals and immigrant reality. Anti-Filipino sentiment sometimes erupted into violence, such as the Watsonville Riots in California in 1930, where white mobs attacked Filipino farmworkers over several days, resulting in injuries and one death. The paradoxical status of Filipinos—needed for labor but viewed with racial hostility—fueled political debate. The Tydings-McDuffie Act of 1934 (Philippine Independence Act) resolved this tension by promising future independence while immediately reclassifying Filipinos as “aliens” for immigration purposes. This change subjected them to the restrictive laws applied to other Asians, imposing a minuscule annual quota of just 50 and drastically curtailing new arrivals. Koreans, arriving primarily after Japan’s annexation of Korea in 1910, faced unique challenges. Fleeing Japanese colonial rule, many sought refuge abroad. As subjects of the Japanese Empire, they were often lumped with Japanese immigrants under restrictive policies and later barred by the 1924 Act. Despite these barriers, Korean immigrant communities became crucial centers for the burgeoning Korean independence movement. A key figure was Ahn Chang Ho (Dosan). Arriving in California in 1902, Ahn became a pivotal leader, co-founding the Kongnip Hyophoe (Mutual Assistance Society) and later establishing the influential Heungsadan (Young Korean Academy) to foster ethical leadership and national consciousness. Traveling extensively, he established schools, newspapers, and independence organizations, playing a significant role in the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea. Ahn’s lifelong dedication provided vital leadership and inspiration for Koreans striving to maintain their identity and support their homeland’s liberation while navigating anti-Asian discrimination in North America.

World War II: Internment, Service, and Shifts

World War II brought profound upheaval and perhaps the most jarring paradoxes in the history of Asian North Americans. Following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, long-simmering anti-Japanese prejudice erupted into mass hysteria along the West Coast. Fueled by decades of “Yellow Peril” propaganda, economic jealousy, and wartime fear – and despite a lack of credible evidence of espionage – powerful political figures, military leaders (notably General John L. DeWitt, head of the Western Defense Command, who infamously stated “A Jap’s a Jap”), agricultural lobbies fearing competition, and sensationalist newspapers demanded action. This pressure led President Franklin D. Roosevelt to issue Executive Order 9066 in February 1942, authorizing the designation of military areas for exclusion. While neutrally worded, it was applied almost exclusively to people of Japanese ancestry on the West Coast. Canada swiftly followed suit, using the War Measures Act to issue Order-in-Council P.C. 1486, authorizing similar removal and detention.

What followed was the forced removal and mass incarceration of approximately 120,000 people of Japanese descent in the US and about 22,000 in Canada from designated coastal areas, regardless of citizenship status. Roughly two-thirds of those incarcerated in the US were Nisei – American-born citizens. Families were given mere days or weeks to dispose of their property, often selling homes, businesses, and farms for pennies on the dollar. They were first herded into temporary “assembly centers” – frequently repurposed racetracks or fairgrounds – before being transported under armed guard to ten remote, hastily constructed concentration camps (officially “relocation centers”) in desolate inland areas. Life in the camps was marked by harsh climates, rudimentary barracks, barbed wire, guard towers, lack of privacy, inadequate provisions, and profound psychological trauma. In Canada, the dispossession was particularly severe; the government confiscated and sold off nearly all property owned by Japanese Canadians in British Columbia, ensuring they had little to return to after the war.

Amidst this devastating injustice, many acts of resistance occurred. Gordon Hirabayashi, a Japanese American student and Quaker, deliberately violated the discriminatory curfew and exclusion orders, believing them unconstitutional, intending to create a test case. His challenge, Hirabayashi v. United States (1943), reached the Supreme Court, which unfortunately upheld the curfew. Similarly, Fred Korematsu challenged the exclusion order itself; the Supreme Court upheld his conviction in Korematsu v. United States (1944), validating the exclusion based on military necessity (a decision now widely condemned). Only in Ex parte Endo (1944) did the Court rule that the government could not detain a citizen whose loyalty was established. Decades later, fueled by evidence of government misconduct, the convictions of Hirabayashi, Korematsu, and Minoru Yasui (who challenged the curfew) were overturned in lower courts, acknowledging the grave injustice. Their principled stands represent a courageous fight for civil liberties against overwhelming wartime pressure.

The ultimate paradox of this era lies in the military service of Japanese Americans. While their families were incarcerated, thousands of Nisei men volunteered or were drafted into the US Army. Initially barred from service, policy shifted, and they served primarily in the segregated 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. Fighting primarily in Italy and France, these units became legendary for their courage, earning more decorations for valor, for their size and length of service, than any other unit in US military history. Their motto, “Go for Broke,” reflected their determination to prove their loyalty through combat, even as their nation questioned it.

The Color Guard of the Army's 442nd Regimental Combat Team stands at attention while citations are read following the fierce fighting in the Vosges area of France, Nov. 12, 1944.

Conversely, the wartime alliance with China led to shifts regarding Chinese immigrants. The US Magnuson Act of 1943 repealed the Chinese Exclusion Acts, finally granting naturalization rights, though it assigned only a token annual quota of 105. Canada followed suit, repealing its Exclusion Act in 1947. These changes, while limited, marked the beginning of the end for overt, race-based exclusion laws in North America.

Turning Points & New Eras: Opening the Doors

The post-war era saw gradual but significant shifts toward dismantling discriminatory structures. Passed over President Truman’s veto amid Cold War tensions, the McCarran-Walter Act of 1952 (Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952) codified existing immigration laws. While controversial for its security provisions, it marked a crucial step for Asian immigrants by formally ending the long-standing ban on Asian naturalization based explicitly on race, finally overturning precedents like Ozawa and Thind. It also eliminated the Asiatic Barred Zone. However, the Act largely retained the discriminatory national origins quota system from 1924, allocating tiny quotas to Asian countries and thus maintaining significant barriers to new immigration, even while allowing those already present to become citizens. It did introduce a preference system favoring skills and family ties, foreshadowing later reforms, but its immediate impact on Asian immigration numbers remained limited. This pivotal change, ending racial bars to citizenship, allowed figures like Dalip Singh Saund, an immigrant from Punjab who arrived decades earlier with a PhD but was barred from citizenship, to finally become a citizen. He quickly entered politics and, in 1956, was elected to the US House of Representatives – the first Asian American, first Indian American, and first Sikh American elected to Congress, symbolizing the potential unlocked by even partial reforms.

The changing global climate – marked by the Cold War imperative for the US to project fairness, decolonization movements challenging racial hierarchies, and the powerful domestic Civil Rights Movement demanding an end to racial discrimination – spurred more fundamental change. These forces culminated in the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 (Hart-Celler Act), signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson. This landmark legislation represented a radical departure by completely abolishing the discriminatory national origins quota system. Instead, the 1965 Act established a new system based primarily on family reunification (giving priority to relatives of US citizens and permanent residents) and needed skills (favoring professionals, scientists, and artists). While proponents downplayed its potential demographic impact, the Act’s effects were profound. By removing national origins barriers, it opened the doors to immigrants from regions previously excluded, particularly Asia, Latin America, and Africa. Over the following decades, Asian immigration surged, bringing millions from countries like China, India, the Philippines, Korea, and Vietnam. This influx included highly educated professionals, entrepreneurs, and families seeking reunification, fundamentally reshaping the demographic landscape of the United States.

President Lyndon B. Johnson Signing of the Immigration Act of 1965

Two years later, Canada introduced its objective points-based immigration system in 1967, similarly eliminating national origin bias in economic immigrant selection and leading to comparable diversification. These landmark North American reforms ushered in a new era. Subsequent legislation, like the US Refugee Act of 1980, created more systematic procedures for admitting refugees, facilitating the arrival of large numbers of Southeast Asians fleeing conflict. Think of Le Ly Hayslip, whose harrowing experiences escaping war-torn Vietnam and rebuilding her life in America were chronicled in her powerful memoirs, representing the resilience required to forge new beginnings in this new era.

A Modern Mosaic & Enduring Issues

Today, Asian Americans and Asian Canadians, representing incredible diversity, are integral to the North American fabric. Canada’s official policy of multiculturalism, adopted in the 1970s, formally recognizes this reality. Asian communities enrich society immensely through culture, cuisine, innovation, and civic participation. Statistically, Asian Americans and many Asian Canadian groups demonstrate high levels of educational attainment, often exceeding national averages (over 55% of Asian Americans hold a bachelor’s degree or higher vs. ~36% for the US overall). Median household incomes for Asian Americans overall are higher than the US average, though this aggregate figure masks significant disparities between different origin groups. Furthermore, Asian Americans exhibit high rates of business ownership, representing about 11% of all US employer businesses and employing millions. Success stories abound across all fields: figures like Kamala Harris reaching the US Vice Presidency or Harjit Sajjan serving as Canada’s Minister of National Defence showcase progress in political representation. In business and technology, leaders like Microsoft’s Satya Nadella, Google/Alphabet’s Sundar Pichai, NVIDIA’s Jen-Hsun Huang, and AMD’s Lisa Su helm global corporations. The arts and culture sphere boasts icons like cellist Yo-Yo Ma, actors Michelle Yeoh and Simu Liu, and architect I.M. Pei. Yet, despite these remarkable achievements and positive indicators, systemic issues, societal biases, and challenges like the persistent “model minority” myth (which often ignores intra-group disparities) and recent surges in anti-Asian hate remain crucial areas for attention. The tragic murder of Vincent Chin in 1982, a Chinese American man beaten to death in Detroit by autoworkers who reportedly mistook him for Japanese and blamed him for industry layoffs, became a rallying point for Asian American activism against hate crimes and lenient sentencing, highlighting that even decades after the repeal of explicitly exclusionary laws, deadly prejudice persisted.

The story of Asian immigration to North America is thus a sweeping saga defined by struggle, resilience, and transformation. It encompasses the harsh realities of exclusion codified in laws like the Chinese Exclusion Acts, the Asiatic Barred Zone, and national origins quotas, often inflamed by agitators like Denis Kearney and punctuated by brutal violence like the Rock Springs Massacre and the Vancouver riots. It includes the courageous resistance and legal challenges of individuals like Wong Chin Foo, Gurdit Singh, Bhagat Singh Thind, and Gordon Hirabayashi against overwhelming discrimination. It tracks the pivotal legislative shifts, particularly the landmark reforms of the mid-1960s, that dismantled discriminatory structures and opened pathways for diverse communities from across Asia. This led to the vibrant, multi-generational mosaic we see today, marked by significant contributions in every field, as evidenced by countless success stories and statistical achievements. Yet, this narrative also acknowledges the persistent shadows of prejudice, the complexities masked by the “model minority” myth, and the ongoing need to address systemic barriers and contemporary challenges like anti-Asian hate, tragically exemplified by incidents like the murder of Vincent Chin. It remains a story far from over, continuously unfolding as millions of Asian North Americans navigate their complex identities, build upon the legacy of those who came before, and shape the future of the continent they call home.

Dragons

As the Paramara dynasty settled in the area now known as the Bhojpur district in Bihar, they brought their favorite pets, Dragons, from Ujjain. The one problem with the move from Ujjain to Bhojpur was that dragons could not digest the sattu-filled litti chokha, as they were used to the far inferior plain baati chokha from Ujjain. This caused a lot of acidity in the dragons, to the extent that they would burp clouds of smoke. Rani Paramaag devi was the first person to learn to harvest this to her advantage by making the dragons spit this fiery acid out. But more about this later…

As the dynasty flourished, so did the local area, evolving its cultural identity and language. The European traveler Megasthenes, traveled to the Bhojpur area during his visit to India. He saw that the people in Bhojpur had a lot of valor. In his travel memoirs, he called the area Valor Area. Seleucus Nikator, not being a very learned man thought that Megasthenes visited a place called Valyria.

Hence started the misunderstanding that dragons came from ancient Valyria when dragons were Paramara dynasty’s pets from Bhojpur Bihar. Even in the modern day, we can find traces of the origin of dragons from Bhojpur by understanding some of the commands they respond to. The most important command of course is dracarys. Remember how Rani Paramaag devi learned to harness dragon’s acidity as a weapon, the key technique Rani developed was to be able to command the dragon to burp out the fiery acid. She did this by using the word dakaris, which in the Bhojpuri language meant please burp. Over the years the term got confused and people started using dracarys instead. Hence losing another part of the golden history of ancient India.

Belief in God

For a while now I have been a vocal atheist. Born in a family immersed in religion and dogma I was fortunate that my parents didn’t brain wash me beyond repair. I took the God narrative for granted until I was an adult. This was the first time when I had to deal with a heartbreak. For the first time I couldn’t get something I really wanted, I had to deal with the consequences of an action I couldn’t undo.

This experience led me down the rabbit hole of being a skeptic. In the pursuit of emotional support I turned to God and religion. Finding no solace there I felt myself drowning in a deep void, a dark place from where it would be hard to return.

This was the time I found George Carlin. George Carlin

The “Religion is Bullshit” piece left a big impact on me.

It was like Harry Potter knowing he is a horcrux but never acknowledging it. I had never really connected with God, but never questioned the existence either. When your self image is that of an ever rational, scientific mind, recognizing your own cognitive dissonance is jarring.

Hence started the long and arduous journey. A search for truth, inner peace, and more importantly a rational explanation.

C R A P - 3

बहुत दिनों से दिमाग कुछ हरकतें कर रहा है. शायद यह नशे का असर था या मेरी मनःस्थिति का, ये तो मैं न भांप पाया न ही भांप पा रहा हूँ. एक कोहरा सा आँखों के सामने छाया हुआ है और आँखें बोझिल हैं. ज़िन्दगी अपना रास्ता खुद चुन रही है, बिना मेरी मंशा पूछे. या असल में मेरी कोई मंशा ही नहीं है और ज़िन्दगी को तो आखिर चलते ही जाना होता है.

अचरज की बात तो ये है की कुछ चीज़ें तो दिखाई ही नहीं दे रहीं और कुछ चीज़ें एकाएक संज्ञान के इतने निकट हैं, वह बातें जिनपे मैंने कभी विचार भी नहीं किया सहसा जीवन का अभिन्न अंग बन गयीं हैं.

जब पीछे मुड के देखता हूँ तो यही लगता है की इस समाज ने जो मेरे दिमाग पे प्याज नुमा परतें चढाई हैं वह उतार फेंकने की तीव्र इच्छा बलवती होती जा रही है. इस समाज का उपहास ही जीवन का एक मात्र अंग बनता जा रहा है. फिर ये लगता है की एक पागल में और एक आम इंसान में अंतर ही क्या है? बस ये की उस पागल ने समाज के उन नियमों को नहीं माना जो उसके स्वछन्द विचरण को रोकने का प्रयास करते हैं?

ऐसे में शिवमंगल सिंह सुमन की कविता ध्यान आ रही है:

हम पंछी उन्मुक्त गगन के पिंजर बदॄ न गा पायेंगे
कनक तीलियों से टकरा कर पुलकित पंख टूट जाएँगे
हम बहता जल पीने वाले मर जाएँगे भूके प्यासे
कहीं भली है कटुक निबोरी कनक कटोरी की मैदा से

आज ऐसा प्रतीत होता है की कवी के ह्रदय में न सिर्फ पंछियों की व्यथा थी अपितु उसके ह्रदय में मानव का इस मुखौटे में कैद होना भी था. ये मुखोटा जो हमें सदा लगाये रहना पड़ता है समाज के आगे. एक टीस सी है दिल में जो कहती है इस मुखोटे को उतार फैंको. मन कुंठित सा लगता है आत्मा जर्जर. ये रीति रिवाज, धर्म और समाज ये किस लिए हैं? हमें खुद से दूर करने के लिए? ये मेरी व्यथा है या मानव की अस्तित्व की विडंबना? हमें खुद को जानने के लिए इतनी मेहनत करनी होती है और जो खुद को जान जाता है उसे देव कहते हैं. यदि इस जीवन का उद्देश्य इसीके अस्तित्व को समझना है तो या तो यह उद्देश्य बहुत तुच्छ है या इस उद्देश्य का संज्ञान उस परम सत्य की प्राप्ति करेगा जिसकी अभी च्येस्था मात्र कर सकता हूँ.

P.S. Have transliterated this so please pardon the spelling mistakes.