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Several months ago, I had attended a conference exploring the possibilities of cooperation between India and Canada in the field of education. A Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) had been signed between the governments and institutions of these two countries. I attended this conference in the capacity of an international student from India pursuing graduate studies in Canada. It is a subject on which I have had first-hand experiences. After that day, which was full of general observations, I now sit down to write a personal Memorandum of Understanding. This MoU is simply an attempt to understand my own thoughts, experiences and reflections over the past few years and share them in the hope that they will be understood by others.

Where do I begin? What is my purpose? Is it possible for me to still identify myself with the student I was in India three years ago or must I only dare to speak of her in retrospect? Is it possible for an international student to give voice to an experience without the reflections that have shadowed and enriched those thoughts and experiences? I will have to speak of the past which still lives in the present and a present which cannot exist without its past.

Changing Tides

In the present, the question often posed is: “Will you stay in Canada or go back to India?” Three years ago, all I knew was that I wanted to leave India and study in the US or Canada. When I was accepted at York University in Toronto, my concerns were only with regard to the funding and the faculty. I wanted to leave India because I did not see a future for myself in academics there. I was a student at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), the topmost social science university in India. I had a supervisor who did not share my research interest, the university was ill-equipped in terms of books in the libraries and the only access to computers was an hour or two in a cyber-cafe. I had worked as a research assistant with several professors. Sometimes I was paid in cash the equivalent of approximately US$100, and sometimes my work was conveniently regarded as a gratuitous act of goodwill.

I did receive a scholarship in India, which was guaranteed me for two years. I used a part of it to support myself and to fund my applications abroad. Applying abroad is an expensive process — financially, emotionally and in terms of time. (For example, I had to start the application process almost a year in advance of my leaving.) In this time period I had to try and score high marks in the mandatory Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) and Graduate Record Examination. I had to shortlist universities in terms of faculty, funding and research interest. I had to write research papers and work and rework several drafts of Statements of Purpose. I had to establish communication via e-mail with faculty in these universities abroad. Some of them did not bother to respond and others offered suggestions such as that I should put in applications to as many as six different departments of the same university in order to secure a letter of acceptance from at least one of them, and hopefully, also some funding. These professors did not realize that a typical student in a country like India will not have enough money to put in even one application abroad, let alone six!

Best, but Better

I studied in some of the best schools, colleges and universities in India. My entire education was in the English language. Yet, I had to take the TOEFL to make sure that my application would not be regarded as incomplete. I had to pay more than US$100 to take this test, and for every additional score report I had to shell out another 10 to 15 dollars. It was as if 300 years of colonization were not enough and the colonizers still needed proof of the success of their imperialistic adventure. I had to provide this proof only to realize later that I have a better command over the English language than many of those for whom it is the mother tongue.

As a student in elite educational institutions in India I regularly attended seminars and workshops commonly titled "How to Go Abroad?" I frequently visited libraries and foundations funded by foreign governments, in my pursuit of similar information. In school, I had listened to an Australian giving a talk on educational opportunities and the good climate in her country. In college, I listened to a representative championing the cause of obtaining a degree from the U.S., and of travelling abroad itself being an educational experience.

The professors at my regional university worked after-hours and gave private tuitions. Several of the professors at JNU had done their doctorates abroad. They provided students books and reading material from their own private collections. They wrote letters of recommendation for students and helped them go abroad by using their offshore networks. Sometimes getting scholarships or part-time work depended on the goodwill of these professors. It was not that merit was disregarded — nevertheless, once such a person of influence vacated his university position, there was a power vacuum and a lack of opportunities for his student protégées.

Crossing Frontiers

I was fortunate enough to find some faculty abroad who shared my research interest, and who were keen about the acceptance of my application. I finally received a letter of acceptance, along with an offer of full funding, from York University. Although this funding was enough to cover most of my expenses, Canadian immigration authorities required further proof of funds and proof of strong family ties in India, before they would issue me my student visa. My family was happy to hear that I had been accepted at a university abroad, but was concerned about me travelling and staying in a foreign land amidst a foreign culture as a single woman. They were reluctant to show financial support until I had settled the question of marriage. While I was engaged in addressing these concerns, I learnt of several other students with letters of acceptance from other universities but no funds to show to the consulate, who were desperately seeking help from family and friends, and trying to figure out how to raise the money to buy an airplane ticket and pay for the expensive winter clothing in the peak of summer in India.

It was my first time abroad. In making this journey, the visits to the consulate and an Air Canada flight brought me face-to-face with another segment of the Indian population. Until then, my interaction had been with the educated, professional, urbane and intellectual middle-class elite of India. With them I had engaged in conversations on the "brain-drain" from India. Now I found myself observing and engaging with members of the rural and small town population of India. They were travelling to Canada and they had been sponsored as a spouse or invited by some relative making a considerable living there. They too were hopeful that they could prosper in Canada. An office clerk said to me, "Don't go to the U.S. Go to Canada. A country of peace and goodwill."

The reception at the airport was like a greeting from my own people. All the cab drivers, turbaned and bearded, were from my country and some were from our neighbouring countries. There was so much that was so little foreign in the cultural spaces of Canada!

Conversely, the ignorance in the average Canadian mind about the ground realities existing in India was initially funny, and later frustratingly difficult. In my office, a fellow Indian student and I entertained our colleagues about how many times we had to tell Westerners and second generation Canadians of Indian origin about nirvana, Gandhi and Bollywood. Of course no one had read Gandhi's My Experiments with Truth. It is easier to be transported to and dwell in a world of fantasy and mystery.

A part of this fantasy or half-truth that one frequently encounters is that India is an emerging superpower. It is an emerging superpower as represented by the upper echelons of its political and educated elite, who talk about the government's promise of building more universities and the power of Indian information technology. They do not talk about the hard wooden benches and technology-bereft classrooms, the frequent electricity outages, the connection to the Internet which will be possible only after you have finished reading three chapters of a book, a book which is available only as a photocopy.

Dichotomies and Differences

In these three years of living in Canada, which is not so much a multi-cultural but a multi-national society, I have learned to regard myself as an ambassador from India. I hang my head in shame when I listen to a well-meaning gentleman tell me about how my fellow countryman has to be deported due to unsavoury activities in Canada. In my class on Global Politics, I engage in a dialogue with my students about India's colonial and postcolonial experiences. Each class brings forth a fresh set of memories and lessons learnt. I have learned to cook Indian meals and delight in the pleasures of other cuisines. I have acquired my permanent residency in Canada, with the knowledge that the Indian government has passed legislation on dual citizenship and in the hope that the latter, sooner or later, will also be extended to me. I seek to remain rooted in the soil of my Indian upbringing, while endeavouring to find expression and anchor for my aspirations in this Western culture.

In the newspapers, I read about Canadian and provincial government programs on rehabilitation from alcoholism and drug abuse. In the classroom I often encounter students suffering from emotional and psychological distress. I see advertisements on the university campus for weekly "pub nights." I listen to students working at two jobs, taking student loans and trying to get through university. I meet single mothers, age 19, thrown out by their parents. My niece wants to study medicine outside India. She has never left home. She is cocooned in family warmth and protection. On the phone talking to family and friends, I say all is well. Suffering finds its own expression.

It is possible that in a few years from now I will get my doctorate and build a successful career for myself in academics. It is possible that I might find a position in a university here or at an elite educational institution in India. I hope I can make a difference.

Author's Information

Ritu Mathur is a PhD candidate in the Department of Political Science at York University. She is also affiliated as a researcher with the York Centre for International & Security Studies (YCISS) - a research unit of York University dedicated to the study of international peace and security issues.

"I would like to thank my friend Jimmy Sukeshwala for his support and encouragement in writing this article."

© 2007 York University

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