krnraj1310
Sep 1, 2009
Writing Feedback / Narrative Essay Writing on Indian American Culture - Feedback [2]
I would like to know whether I have any errors in my writing and any improvements I could make to this essay. I don't doubt any grammatical errors of course, but I would appreciate a critique of my work.
Against the Flow of the River
My parents are from India. For all of their lives they have been hard-working people. That's all they could have done though really, what with the poverty and poor conditions they faced in their daily lives. For them, hard work and making the best of everything they had was the only way to survive and hopefully achieve a better lifestyle; getting good grades was their biggest priority in order to be accepted into their desired colleges so that they could have a significant occupation. Both my father and mother came from culturally restrictive, impoverished families, yet both graduated from their high schools as valedictorians. They both hoped to get into medical school and they stopped at nothing to prove themselves worthy of it. They persevered against all odds that could very well have drowned their successes. They achieved what so many others had failed to accomplish in finally getting into medical school.
My parents never knew each other before they met in medical school, but it was my grandparents who brought my mother and father together in the form of an arranged marriage. Of course they knew each other to a certain extent before marriage, but "love" was probably not the first factor in their matrimony. Nonetheless, my parents claim to have enjoyed their early marriage and still continued to attend medical school, hoping to become physicians and realize a better life than they had experienced in their youth. The only problem was that they were continuously faced with financial issues. Medical school did not leave them with much more than debt by the time they finally finished residency and had their medical occupations; as young doctors, my parents could barely scrape a decent income to support themselves financially.
After some time, my mother became pregnant and my parents began to contemplate heavily the consequences of raising a child in India after all they had endured. During this time it was monsoon season in India and the rains poured over the land. Raindrops collected in masses upon the ground as the water would flow down the streets and my parents looked onwards amidst the cloudy skies wondering what would become of them in India with an expected child. My parents needed a way out; looking back upon the times of their childhoods, they believed that their child did not deserve to see and feel all of the hardships they felt all the way along the line. They sought a new land to pursue their professions and begin life anew, unadulterated by hindrances that perpetually dragged my parents down the rapids of the river of Indian life.
My parents chose the United States of America as that "new land." Although they were very attached to India, the prospects of a supposed vivid future and great sums of wealth seemed promising as an atmosphere in which they could raise their child. Consequently, thinking of their child's future, my parents immigrated to America relying on their medical expertise and a supposed shortage of doctors in America to carry them through at the time of their departure from India. Little did my parents know that they would be fighting against the rapids of an unfamiliar river which meandered in a direction they could not have fathomed; a new life in America was not something that my parents could have so easily adapted to.
When they arrived in America, my parents found themselves in an entirely alien land with clean streets, completely devoid of any beggars. They spent their first few months in the city of Savannah, GA, where they had difficulties adjusting to their surroundings and forming relationships with people. In addition, they had to spend long hours verifying their medical education from India without any pay. Things didn't get any better for my parents when I was born, creating yet another financial hardship for my parents. But through it all, my parents alleviated some issues and found a small society of Indian Americans who managed to support my parents and show them that America was not so much of an alien place. Having become a part of this small society, my parents gained the support of new family friends to escape financial problems and feel content knowing that their culture was still with them even though they were out of India. Although my parents were still struggling financially, their strong work ethic and support from the community managed to mitigate their situation. The river of unfamiliarity that was American life would not restrain my parents from battling rapids that had kept them from success for so long.
I grew up with this Indian American culture. Ever since I was a small boy, I could always remember my parents having numerous dinners with other Indian families, always friendly with one another and sharing cultural norms. As an impressionable child, I embraced the Indian culture that overwhelmed me, preferring nothing but my mother's traditional cooking. Unfortunately, my youthful infatuation with Indian culture did not last; I soon found myself stranded in a river of my own, separate from that of my parents, as realizations of myself and heritage surfaced in my life in America.
The first day that I had walked into an American school, I experienced the first instance in which my positive feelings about my culture seemed to dwindle as my peers suggested that no culture was better than the American culture. I began to question the norms of my culture and when I came home that first school day, I asked my parents about it and they said that no culture was better than another. They said to me: "use your oars so that you can direct yourself without letting only the flow of the river pull you along." In my youth I was naturally inclined to believe whatever they told me, but I couldn't help but hold a suspicion of the matter as the years went by in my childhood.
As I grew older, I questioned Indian culture more and more with the influences of my peers, and began to have conflicts with my parents, feeling that their customs were unsophisticated as opposed to American culture. I began to demand American food instead of the traditional Indian food that I so readily embraced in my younger years. Everything American seemed to be much more captivating than what the Indian culture seemed to offer. This new American infatuation provoked many arguments with my parents with them saying things like, "It is not within our culture to do that." One day, during my teen years, I finally responded, "You don't know anything about me, your stupid Indian culture is so unsophisticated, and you're so stubborn to not let me go and do what I want!" After this exclamation it seemed that my parents had lost some hope in me and they left me to do as I wished.
Soon as I totally embraced American culture over my Indian culture, peers around me trash-talked my origins and I began to regret what I had said to my parents. I moved on drudgingly with a suspicion that what my peers hinted about the "inferiority of my Indian culture" was very wrong. I still continued to denounce my Indian culture but as soon as I moved out of my parents' home and into college, I began to regret that I had denounced the culture of my birth. On my graduation day from college, I came to my parents and asked them to explain to me how they came to America. When I listened to what they had to say, I could only regret that what I had done in denouncing my Indian culture was only a result of my ignorance of any of the hardships that I could have faced, had my parents stayed in India. Only years after denying my Indian heritage did I begin to embrace my Indian culture, understanding my parents' quote, "use your oars so that you can direct yourself without letting only the flow of the river pull you along." My parents have struggled against many life-long hardships that have come their way, battling against the flow of that river. I realize that their success only rose with the triumph of this battle and I understand that I must overcome the flow of a river that has held me back from understanding what it means to be who I am and where I have come from.
I would like to know whether I have any errors in my writing and any improvements I could make to this essay. I don't doubt any grammatical errors of course, but I would appreciate a critique of my work.
Against the Flow of the River
My parents are from India. For all of their lives they have been hard-working people. That's all they could have done though really, what with the poverty and poor conditions they faced in their daily lives. For them, hard work and making the best of everything they had was the only way to survive and hopefully achieve a better lifestyle; getting good grades was their biggest priority in order to be accepted into their desired colleges so that they could have a significant occupation. Both my father and mother came from culturally restrictive, impoverished families, yet both graduated from their high schools as valedictorians. They both hoped to get into medical school and they stopped at nothing to prove themselves worthy of it. They persevered against all odds that could very well have drowned their successes. They achieved what so many others had failed to accomplish in finally getting into medical school.
My parents never knew each other before they met in medical school, but it was my grandparents who brought my mother and father together in the form of an arranged marriage. Of course they knew each other to a certain extent before marriage, but "love" was probably not the first factor in their matrimony. Nonetheless, my parents claim to have enjoyed their early marriage and still continued to attend medical school, hoping to become physicians and realize a better life than they had experienced in their youth. The only problem was that they were continuously faced with financial issues. Medical school did not leave them with much more than debt by the time they finally finished residency and had their medical occupations; as young doctors, my parents could barely scrape a decent income to support themselves financially.
After some time, my mother became pregnant and my parents began to contemplate heavily the consequences of raising a child in India after all they had endured. During this time it was monsoon season in India and the rains poured over the land. Raindrops collected in masses upon the ground as the water would flow down the streets and my parents looked onwards amidst the cloudy skies wondering what would become of them in India with an expected child. My parents needed a way out; looking back upon the times of their childhoods, they believed that their child did not deserve to see and feel all of the hardships they felt all the way along the line. They sought a new land to pursue their professions and begin life anew, unadulterated by hindrances that perpetually dragged my parents down the rapids of the river of Indian life.
My parents chose the United States of America as that "new land." Although they were very attached to India, the prospects of a supposed vivid future and great sums of wealth seemed promising as an atmosphere in which they could raise their child. Consequently, thinking of their child's future, my parents immigrated to America relying on their medical expertise and a supposed shortage of doctors in America to carry them through at the time of their departure from India. Little did my parents know that they would be fighting against the rapids of an unfamiliar river which meandered in a direction they could not have fathomed; a new life in America was not something that my parents could have so easily adapted to.
When they arrived in America, my parents found themselves in an entirely alien land with clean streets, completely devoid of any beggars. They spent their first few months in the city of Savannah, GA, where they had difficulties adjusting to their surroundings and forming relationships with people. In addition, they had to spend long hours verifying their medical education from India without any pay. Things didn't get any better for my parents when I was born, creating yet another financial hardship for my parents. But through it all, my parents alleviated some issues and found a small society of Indian Americans who managed to support my parents and show them that America was not so much of an alien place. Having become a part of this small society, my parents gained the support of new family friends to escape financial problems and feel content knowing that their culture was still with them even though they were out of India. Although my parents were still struggling financially, their strong work ethic and support from the community managed to mitigate their situation. The river of unfamiliarity that was American life would not restrain my parents from battling rapids that had kept them from success for so long.
I grew up with this Indian American culture. Ever since I was a small boy, I could always remember my parents having numerous dinners with other Indian families, always friendly with one another and sharing cultural norms. As an impressionable child, I embraced the Indian culture that overwhelmed me, preferring nothing but my mother's traditional cooking. Unfortunately, my youthful infatuation with Indian culture did not last; I soon found myself stranded in a river of my own, separate from that of my parents, as realizations of myself and heritage surfaced in my life in America.
The first day that I had walked into an American school, I experienced the first instance in which my positive feelings about my culture seemed to dwindle as my peers suggested that no culture was better than the American culture. I began to question the norms of my culture and when I came home that first school day, I asked my parents about it and they said that no culture was better than another. They said to me: "use your oars so that you can direct yourself without letting only the flow of the river pull you along." In my youth I was naturally inclined to believe whatever they told me, but I couldn't help but hold a suspicion of the matter as the years went by in my childhood.
As I grew older, I questioned Indian culture more and more with the influences of my peers, and began to have conflicts with my parents, feeling that their customs were unsophisticated as opposed to American culture. I began to demand American food instead of the traditional Indian food that I so readily embraced in my younger years. Everything American seemed to be much more captivating than what the Indian culture seemed to offer. This new American infatuation provoked many arguments with my parents with them saying things like, "It is not within our culture to do that." One day, during my teen years, I finally responded, "You don't know anything about me, your stupid Indian culture is so unsophisticated, and you're so stubborn to not let me go and do what I want!" After this exclamation it seemed that my parents had lost some hope in me and they left me to do as I wished.
Soon as I totally embraced American culture over my Indian culture, peers around me trash-talked my origins and I began to regret what I had said to my parents. I moved on drudgingly with a suspicion that what my peers hinted about the "inferiority of my Indian culture" was very wrong. I still continued to denounce my Indian culture but as soon as I moved out of my parents' home and into college, I began to regret that I had denounced the culture of my birth. On my graduation day from college, I came to my parents and asked them to explain to me how they came to America. When I listened to what they had to say, I could only regret that what I had done in denouncing my Indian culture was only a result of my ignorance of any of the hardships that I could have faced, had my parents stayed in India. Only years after denying my Indian heritage did I begin to embrace my Indian culture, understanding my parents' quote, "use your oars so that you can direct yourself without letting only the flow of the river pull you along." My parents have struggled against many life-long hardships that have come their way, battling against the flow of that river. I realize that their success only rose with the triumph of this battle and I understand that I must overcome the flow of a river that has held me back from understanding what it means to be who I am and where I have come from.