Clash Of Cultures

4. Single Sorrows

Noor

I was already wide awake when my alarm rang at 6 am. Today was the day I finally became a Pediatrician!

I showered and pulled on my crisp new scrubs. My makeup skills were limited to putting on a light layer of foundation and lipstick. Today I contended with just lip gloss.

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn't bad looking by any means. Plenty of guys had shown an interest in me over the years. In high school, I found them too immature. In med school they were a distraction from my career goals.

So here I was, single, and in a new country. Surrounded by men with whom I likely had zero compatibility. The only potential prospect, Salman as the GME lady had introduced him, didn't want anything to do with me. He had pretty much ignored me yesterday during the tour. Or maybe he was just smitten with the pretty red-head who had tones of questions. Most of which even I could have answered!

I wondered if I would run into to him again today. It would be nice to know someone who may have had a remotely similar upbringing as me. Though...he had made it pretty obvious yesterday that he wasn't interested in having anything to do with a non-American heritage.

With his good looks he was the text book definition of tall, dark and handsome. Everyone knew that people like him preferred beautiful women. And there were so many pretty women here in Chicago. Like the red-head from yesterday. She had introduced herself as Emily, from Boston.

I remembered how Emily-from-Boston had batted her long eyelashes at Salman. And how he had placed his hand on the small of her back as he opened the door to the resident breakroom.

Oh God! What the heck was happening to me? Today is my first day at work, and here I was obsessing over a guy I had interacted with for less than 5 minutes.

I chided myself silently. The American air was already messing with my head. Maybe my parents were right, people change when they live in the West. After just being here for a few days, I could already tell that the new found freedom, especially for a young adult, coupled with the endless social possibilities would be enough to make someone lose their direction. 

But, I reassured myself. I would never be one of those people. Sure, I seemed to have developed a small, stupid crush on a good-looking guy on the very first day of my entry to a training program I would live, breathe and sleep in for the next three years. But that is all it was. Besides, it wasn't the first time I had found someone attractive and had spared more than a few thoughts on them. But I had always gotten over them. Always!

And this time would be no different. I was here to do one thing and one thing alone...train to be a Pediatrician. And not any Pediatrician, the kind who others would look up to, who would be revered by patients, colleagues and faculty alike. 

I was under no illusion that it would be an easy task. As an international medical graduate, it would probably take time for me to adjust to the work environment and culture here. I had some experience working in the US before, but only for a couple of rotations. However, I had always been a quick study and a keen observer. A thing I prided myself on was knowing when to ask for help, which as had been pointed to me numerous times, was an exceptional quality in any trainee, especially one in the medical field. 

Between the busy call schedule I expected to have, and the couple of resident research grants that I had been eyeing ever since I found out I was admitted to this residency program I knew I was going to have my hands full. 

Full enough, that there would be no time or mental energy to obsess over random men who clearly had not wanted to do anything with me either. Plus, I wasn't really the kind of person who would fall for American men anyway...whatever their family background was. I had seen enough Bollywood movies to know that ABCDs (American Born Confused Desis) was a real phenomenon. 

Nope...I loved my culture and my people. And my parents had taught me better than to deviate from that. While I had not given too much thought to this, I had a feeling that my ideal match for marriage would be:

A proud Pakistani (though I was certainly open to other non-western nationalities as well)

Someone who had good relations with his family (because isn't family everything?)

Would not be a rebel by any means (I mean...who had the time for drama?)

A fellow physician would be nice but not necessary

Would ideally be religious, but not too religious!

Good looking would be nice too...but not like Salman, because who has the time to keep trying to compete with all the other beautiful women throwing themselves at him?

And bonus...would know how to cook. Which is something I realized I should have invested some time in, as I stared at all the masalas (spices) packed by my mother. 

With that mental list of qualities to look for in my future husband, and knowing full well that no one in my residency program would match that definition, I felt confident that no man, however good-looking, would be distracting me from the very important work I had set out to do. 

I took one last look at myself, grabbed my hospital issued badge and work bag and walked out the door. 

As I walked towards the hospital, I took my phone out, since everyone else on the sidewalk seemed to be looking down at one too. I had recently signed up for daily inspirational quotes through a website I had visited often in the last few years. And that morning the very first notification on my phone's screen read: 

'Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and most of all, love of what you are doing or learning to do' – Pele

I smiled at myself...I was ready for success, whatever the cost!

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