Meet Navdeep Singh, a young Indian woman living in the City of Kanata, Ontario. She works at Tim Horton's to pay the bills while studying at Algonquin College. The life of an international student is never easy. In the morning, Navdeep works at the drive through window, taking orders from customers who are always in a hurry. The rat race which permeates North American culture is something which Navdeep has never understood...
Navdeep Singh remembered her hometown of Mumbai, India. One of the largest metropolitan areas in all of South Asia, if not the world, the City of Mumbai moved at a fast pace. It could be compared to the likes of Toronto, Lagos, Tokyo, London, or Los Angeles. In the City of Mumbai, India, where people chased money like they do everywhere else, folks still took time to live, and spend time with friends and family. In North America, it seemed that nobody had time for such...
"These people are always in a hurry, chasing money, they forget to live," Navdeep Singh told her co-worker Nasser Diallo one fateful morning. It was cold that day and as usual, the town of Kanata felt colder than the rest of the Canadian Capital region. Navdeep hated being at the drive through window, and she was coughing a bit and trying her best to keep it under control. Having the person taking your food order cough all over the place wasn't a good look...
Navdeep Singh had been living in the City of Kanata, Ontario, for a couple of years and never got used to the Canadian winter. Inevitably, in the months of January and February onward, Navdeep often got sick. The young Indian women loved many things about Canada, but the weather was not one of them. If Navdeep could teleport herself back to Mumbai, she would have done so with a smile on her face. The Ontario winter was definitely no joke...
"Don't catch your death, my sister," said Nasser, and the six-foot-tall, lean and dark-skinned African Muslim gently draped his leather jacket over Navdeep's shoulders. The short, plump but pretty-faced young Indian woman smiled gratefully at her co-worker. In Navdeep's country, a lot of people didn't care for the Muslims, and Navdeep's Punjabi family fell into that category. Still, in Ontario, Navdeep befriended a Muslim named Nasser, and he was one of the good guys...
Guvinder and Raj, a couple of young Indian guys who also worked at the Tim Horton's looked at Nasser and Navdeep disapprovingly. Like most Indian men, Raj and Guvinder did not care to see Navdeep become friendly with a foreign man, especially one of African descent. For a lot of South Asians living in North America, old habits die hard and the strong bias they hold against the sons and daughters of Africa is something they're having a hard time letting go of...
To hell with you, Navdeep thought, remembering how Raj walked around like a peacock with his white girlfriend Debra that time Navdeep ran into them at the Bayshore Mall. Navdeep couldn't help but stare at the normally taciturn Raj as he hugged and kissed Debra, the blonde-haired white Canadian woman whose hand he held. Every Indian woman knows this, Indian men treat foreign women like goddesses and take the women of their homeland for granted...
Navdeep Singh's heart winced when she saw Raj kiss Debra at the Bayshore Mall, even though she had no interest in him. As a man, Raj could do whatever he wanted, while restrictions were placed upon Navdeep. It was the oldest story in the book. In Indian society, it is considered perfectly okay for the men to date and marry women of any nationality while Indian women are restricted in their romantic choices. They must marry Indian men, or face the wrath of their families and society...
"Thank you, mere dost ( my friend )," Navdeep replied, and Nasser nodded gently. Originally from West Africa, Nasser Diallo was the only black person working at the Tim Horton's. The brother did not seem bothered by the quiet hostility that Raj and Guvinder threw his way. Nasser was the very picture of strength and dignity in the face of hostility and ignorance, like a true son of the African motherland.
"Shukran, habibiti," Nasser Diallo said, smiling, and Navdeep Singh actually blushed, for she understood a little bit of Arabic. At Algonquin College, Navdeep encountered a lot of students from places like Lebanon, Syria and Egypt. Hell, some of the Somali Muslim students also spoke Arabic. Nasser nodded at Navdeep and continued to do his work, mopping the gloor with a discipline that was unmatched. This was one of the things that Navdeep admired about Nasser. Nothing seemed to get to him...
Navdeep Singh resumed her work, and caught herself stealing glances at Nasser. A lot of people in Canadian society acted one way at work and a whole different way in their private lives. Nasser, who also studied at Algonquin College, was friendly and courteous no matter the setting. You will make a fine officer someday, Navdeep thought, remembering when Nasser told her he wanted to become a cop.
Nasser Diallo finished mopping the floor, and then went to the washroom to wash his hands. He returned to the floor, helping make sandwiches for the customers. There were five people lined up at the front, and three cars in the drive through. With a speed that surprised many, Nasser executed orders and stayed on top of things. The son of poor merchants, Nasser possessed an instinct for business efficiency which couldn't be taught...
Nasser Diallo looked at his watch, and sighed. Another hour or so left of work, and then he would begin the long trek back to Baseline Road where he lived. Rent at his one-bedroom apartment cost eight hundred dollars a month, and Hydro plus other utilities was another hundred bucks. Life in Ontario, Canada, wasn't easy but the proud son of African Muslims wasn't designed to give up. Nasser would honor his ancestors by enduring hardship and making something out of himself...
"Remember to breathe," Nasser told himself, and he closed his eyes, said a silent prayer and returned to work. A lot of people come into Tim Horton's with their anger and frustration, depending on the kind of day they were having. Nasser knew how to stay calm under pressure, that's why he was well-liked by the restaurant owner. Navdeep Singh, the shift supervisor, was one of Nasser's favorite people to work with...
Navdeep Singh, the five-foot-seven, curvy and pleasantly plump, pretty-faced Indian gal with the golden brown skin, the almond-shaped dark eyes and the long curly dark hair. From the moment Nasser first laid eyes on Navdeep, the Indian gal took his breath away. Of course, Nasser figured he didn't stand a chance because Indian ladies weren't allowed to date or marry men who weren't Indian, with white males being the possible exceptions. Still, whenever Nasser's eyes met those of Navdeep, the brother felt...something.
"Take a break," came a familiar female voice, snatching Nasser out of his dark thoughts. He was almost startled, and turned to see Navdeep standing there, flashing that fearless smile of hers. Nasser returned Navdeep's smile, and when her eyes met his...he paused. There was something lovely and playful in Navdeep's eyes, and Nasser hesitated a bit. The lady affected him, for he definitely had a soft spot for her.
