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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

Yesterday I was remembering the circumstances of his birth. You did not know this, husband, but when he was born there was so much blood, and I had a great wound, and the midwife did not believe that it would heal properly. Of course our son’s spirit is so large there must be something to mark his arrival! The midwife summoned four villagers to carry me in a palanquin to the hospital. It is only four miles distant, as you remember, so it was not too strenuous. At the time I did not think this at all important, dear husband, but I am writing it now in case you should hear of it later from others, and wonder that I did not tell you. My health is good and all that happened before is of no consequence and there is never any cause for you to worry about me here. I would not lie to you.

You have told me that you have been sending money to Uncle. This makes me happy, but not at all for my sake. I care only that it puts you in a good light, that your reputation is good and strong.

Theri—,

Padma

Part Two

East Indians are the least desirable race of immigrants to have in the community. They are industrious, but not adaptable, and require a great deal of supervision in order that the work may be properly done.

—Immigrants in Industries, United States Immigration Commission report, 1910

Why do we feel low and humiliated?

—Ghadar protest song

8

September 1914

IN THE VALLEY, BEFORE AND AFTER THE GREAT FLOOD, EVERYONE HAD come from somewhere else. This is what Jivan told Ram when he asked. Five thousand people lived there, about seven hundred in the town of Fredonia itself. Over the past weeks, since Ram had decided to stay, Jivan thought he asked too many questions, like a boy, like a naive lad, even though he was married. Jivan listed the places they had come from, the people who came: Germans, Chinese, Greeks, Filipinos, Swiss, Portuguese, Japanese, Italians, Irish, the Africans who had been slaves, moving west from Dixie because freedom had not yet arrived. The Texans and Kansans and New Yorkers. Of course, the Mexicans, who had once owned it, and the natives too, who knew the land best of all.

Jivan and Ram were in the wagon, going to town to pick up a seeder that had been repaired. Ram had insisted on driving. “But how did they know there would be work for them?” Ram asked. “Why would they come when the river had destroyed so much?”