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Back Passage West
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Cast of Characters
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. Letters
  14. Part Two
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. Letters
  26. Part Three
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. Letters
  34. Part Four
  35. 24
  36. 25
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. Letters
  41. Part Five
  42. 29
  43. 30
  44. 31
  45. 32
  46. 33
  47. 34
  48. 35
  49. 36
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Also by Rishi Reddi
  59. About the Publisher

I have made no mistake. I am desperately in need of an assistant and you must fill that role. I will send money for your travel and you will stay in the gurdwara with me. Gurdwara is like our mother—whether you cross the desert on hands and knees, or swim across the ocean, or come with broken heart, gurdwara brings comfort. Always we Sikhs take care of our own and anyone else who seeks solace. We do not let others suffer, whether they be of our faith or not. How, then, can I abandon you to your anger?

Name of the train depot here is Santa Fe Union Station. Train comes twice a day. Telegraph the details after your arrangements are made. If you do not come, I’ll be greatly disappointed.

Fateh,

B. S. Thind

March 1, 1921

Bhai Bhagat Singh Thind-ji,

Situation has become unbearable here. Is this the country for which I joined the war? Where are those ideals of the United States that I fought for? Democracy? Tolerance?

I have asked my uncle for permission to join you. I am ashamed to say I have gone against him in the past, but in this, I needed his permission. He has given it and more. He gave me his blessing.

You should know that I have begun to wear a dastar again, proudly, as you do. You have inspired me, bhai-ji. That one can be an American, and wear a dastar, and work for Indian independence—all can be counted in the same man.

Please look for my telegram. I will come.

In chardi kala,

Amarjeet Singh

Part Five

I want to say—I cannot say too often—any man who carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is ready to plunge into the vitals of this Republic whenever he gets ready.

—President Woodrow Wilson, speech in Pueblo, Colorado, September 25, 1919

29

Spring 1921

AMARJEET LEFT BEFORE THE SPRING HARVEST, ON A WINDY AFTERNOON when sand swept over the hood of the Model T as the family drove to drop him off. There was no parade and no band as they stood with him on the platform, near a trunk filled with clothes and books. Only an Anglo businessman waited with them, and farther toward the front, a Negro woman with her teenage son. The train whistled its approach, the four passengers boarded, and suddenly Amarjeet had left them, again.

The storm held off until they returned that night, then sent sand blasting against the side of Jivan’s house, through crevices around the windows and roof. The next morning, they spent hours clearing both homes. At Moriyama’s deserted house, sand collected against the eastern wall. Two date trees had fallen across the path. Scorpions sheltered in the sitting room where Amarjeet and Hatsu had talked about Anna Halliday. No one cleared them out. The fertile land sat untilled and abandoned.