Chandigarh to Chapel Hill: One Woman’S Triumph Across Cultures

By Vaneep Sandhu and Ellen Casey

Chandigarh is a city in northern India; Chapel Hill is a town in North Carolina. Chandigarh to Chapel Hill is a story of one womans growth and change as she follows her husband from the first town to the second. Just as her marriage is falling apart, she finds herself confronting a new and challenging culture, and to make things more complicated, she suddenly meets a seductive stranger. With no other options, she must look within herself and find a way to balance her Indian values with the American independence she desires.

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This first novel weaves a touching story It captures the conflict between two cultures and the journey of the young woman navigating her way between the two It is a story of many marriages, of many immigrant lives, [and] the Punjab/Sikh element [is] brought in, in an effortless and natural way. The sincerity and the honesty of the story make [reading it] a gripping experience.
Dr. Pritam Singh, Oxford Brookes University, Oxford, UK

Sabreena's journey across oceans and cultures will resonate with anyone who has taken a chance on life and love.
Laura Boyes, film curator

"An evocative story with the delicate fragrance of chai tea from India and the bracing scent of strong American coffee. [Sandhu's] characters are warm and complex, [and] Sabreena's journey from naive graduate student in India to empowered US divorcee and career woman is very engaging The immigrant's experience and the inevitable hiccups of culture are relayed with elegance and grace. This is an important story for anyone interested in understanding the immigrant experience and the formation of new cultural identities."
Chris Cartwright, EdD
Director of Intercultural Assessment,
Intercultural Communication Institute

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Apr 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452595177

Vaneep Sandhu

Vaneep Sandhu, is a passionate interculturalist, English as a second language instructor and a graduate student. She is married and has a son. Her major interests are reading, hiking and making friends from diverse cultures.

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Copyright © 2014 Vaneep Sandhu.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Photo Credits: Mr. Navjot Singh Gill

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-9516-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9517-7 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 4/1/2014

Photo Credits: Yael Lazar

Contents

Author’s Note

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Author’s Note

I n October, 2010, I simply started writing. The writing proved to be a catharsis and so I continued. Late one morning in November of 2011, I was enjoying a brisk walk with a good friend, Laura Boyes, a film critic. She suggested that I consider turning my writing into a book and introduced me to her friend Ellen, a former professor at Duke University. Ellen came across as a very professional and genuine person, and I felt comfortable handing over my rough and incomplete manuscript to her. Her remark still echoes in my mind: This is like handing over your child to me. After giving the manuscript a reading, she graciously agreed to edit it without any financial compensation. It truly must have been a labor of love for her. Ellen and I rarely set any deadlines; I simply continued writing from my heart and she kept edi ting.

A turning point came in May, 2012, when I visited my parents in Punjab, India, for four months. That’s when I was able to do a large chunk of my writing, all due to my parents’ cooperation. Although both my parents are in their seventies, they insisted that I just focus on my writing and refrain from all routine household chores. It was overwhelming to get such support. They have been my pillars with their words and actions.

There were many times when I felt stuck and discouraged. During these times, a talk with a good friend from high school, Dr. Henry James, helped rejuvenate my spirits. Henry and I share a passion for reading, and being an artist himself, he had the knack of saying just the right words to put me calmly back on track.

The journey progressed. One day, Laura and I were having lunch at Vimala’s, a restaurant in Chapel Hill. Savoring delicious dosa and masala chai, Laura said, You should have ‘Chandigarh’ in the title of the book. By the evening of that day, I had added Chapel Hill" and the title of the book came into being.

The idea of inserting pictures of Chandigarh and Chapel Hill into the book came to my mind on a warm, sunny day while I was sipping a cup of Joe at Café Driade in Chapel Hill. A good friend, Yael Lazar, was gracious enough to take time away from her graduate studies at Duke and spend a day with me taking pictures of Chapel Hill. Her husband, Oren, accompanied us, and the three of us walked up and down Franklin Street, taking pictures, savoring samosas, pastries, and coffee, and creating memories. In India, my cousin, Mr. Navjot Singh Gill, enthusiastically took pictures of Chandigarh, not minding the intense summer heat and humidity.

I conclude with heartfelt appreciation for all these wonderful souls. I also thank many others who either sent me encouraging messages or just said a good word on any given day. A special thanks to my aunt, Mrs. Pushpinder Grewal, who was always available to listen and has always loved me. Of course, the creator himself had a hand in this entire journey.

I hope you find the book insightful and I thank you for your time and interest in reading it. Enjoy!

For my parents,

Dr. Harbhajan Singh & Mrs. Karamwant Kaur

Sabreena Meets Raj

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Part 1

O n February 10, 1987, Sabreena had been the first of her roommates to wake, as usual, and had dutifully made three cups of masala chai on the heater in her tiny bedroom. She had waited, as usual, for Meena and Sarabjit to get up, and for Meena to go down to the bottom floor of the graduate student hostel to gather the ironed clothes from the ironing lady. She had dressed before breakfast in a red kameez and a floral salwar and had carefully applied Nina Ricci perfume. She was ready to face the day, ready for the walk to her English classes at Panjab University, Chandigarh, ready to guard against the damaging rays of the sun with her umbrella, and ready to ignore the unwanted catcalls of the boys hanging out over the balconies of the boys’ hostel down the road.

But she was taken by surprise after classes ended, as they sat on the grass outside the cafeteria, chatting with the aunty who ran the business, when a familiar male voice called out Sabreena’s name and she turned around to see her cousin Harbir, who was standing with a strange young man.

Introductions were made, but Sabreena and her friends quickly said good-bye, knowing that it was their responsibility to discourage any attention from men. Before they had a chance to leave, however, they had learned that Raj, the stranger, had graduated from a very prestigious engineering school and was studying for his MBA.

Over the next few days, Raj kept reappearing, and it was difficult to keep rebuffing his friendly advances and offers of samosas and tea. But with the help of her friends, who were intent on keeping her out of trouble, Sabreena managed to avoid spending any time at all with him. She was quite used to having men like her, but quite unused to thinking that perhaps she liked one back. Her only