“Questions of Culture” Transcript
Distinguished guests, faculty, staff, students, ladies and gentlemen, and, most of all, the Class of 1996:
I can visualize the scene again and again: 11:30 p.m., Saturday night, the fifteenth of August, 1992,
Bombay International Airport, India. I was leaving home for the University of Richmond. And as I said
that final goodbye to my parents, my family, and my friends; and as I saw hope, expectation, even a
tinge of sadness, in their eyes; and as I stepped aboard the Boeing 747 in front, I knew my life had
changed forever.
And then, of course, there was that one nagging question, that one overriding concern: As one of only
three Indian students on a Richmond campus of 3,000, would I ever fit in?
My country was different. My culture was different. My experiences were different. My background was
different. My language was different. My accent was different. Would I ever fit in?
And so here I was, high above the clouds, grappling with questions of culture, of interaction, of ethnicity.
What I didn’t know was that 30,000 feet below, on the ground, the world was faced with these very
same questions—the question of culture, the question of interaction, the question of ethnicity.
The time I spent my first Christmas Eve with my journalism professor. That Christmas evening when the
relationship wasn’t of a faculty member and a student anymore, but of two buddies who fought fiercely
over every point in ping-pong.
The time I had a long and honest talk with an American friend on the eve of a calculus exam. I didn’t
learn much calculus that night, but what I did learn was that as different as we are—different countries,
different cultures, different continents—inherently we are still the same.
Look at Bombay, India. In one maddening week in 1992, 2,000 Indians—Hindus and Muslims—lost their
lives fighting with one another. They fought over a mosque; they fought over a structure made of brick
and mortar. Two thousand human beings lost their lives.
Look at Africa, where, between 1992 and 1996, one million Hutus and Tutsis lost their lives. Just
comprehend that for a moment. Between the time you were a freshman and a senior, 1 million lost
their lives fighting over culture, over history, over background.
Yes, just look at the madness. The world has fought hard to highlight its differences. We have forgotten
our inherent similarities. All because what was missing was a little understanding. Just a little sensitivity.
Just a little open-mindedness. Just a little empathy.
