A GOOD REPLACEMENT FOR COLUMBUS DAY:

The bonds among my parents and their fellow immigrants -- particularly those who arrived soon after the United States opened to wider Asian immigration in 1965, when there were virtually no existing Indian American communities -- are every bit as strong as those among Rama and the friends around him.

Immigrants chose to come here. But, like Rama, they were also going into the wilderness, and they had no idea what they were in for. Most who immigrated here had plans to return home. Then, eventually, they realized this was home.

I think about all the families I grew up with. Just as I can name the figures in the Ramayana, I can name those who helped us: The uncle and auntie who met my father at the airport when he arrived in 1971. Another uncle, who helped my dad buy a car when we moved to Atlanta in 1975. All of those who worked together to create community and eventually built our first Indian American community temple.

I've heard this story told by many Indian immigrants over the years: "When I arrived, I didn't know anyone, so I opened the phone book, found someone with an Indian last name, and called them up." For some, a ride from the airport began a lifelong friendship.

We can all name our own Lakshmans, Sitas and Hanumans. Whether it was helping with child care, or helping one another when our grandparents visited from India, or helping each other in business or through illness, no one went it alone.

The bonds forged in the early days of the immigrant experience were as strong as those from birth. Those relationships sustained and built communities that still thrive, 50 years later, as third and subsequent generations learn about the Ramayana.

So for Indian American Hindus, Jains, Sikhs and others, celebrating Diwali isn't just celebrating with community -- it is celebrating community. None of us goes it alone. We can find friends in any wilderness, and there will be light to guide our way home.

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