Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
The other day, I thought about something I had not thought of in years: Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. More specifically, the fourth dimension of time as a key component of the Theory.
When I was younger, I generally understood the concept. However, as I have aged, the decades have put the concept of time as a dimension into perspective. I can now think back to different periods of time as not simply being part of the past, but being an elastic part of who I am and how I am perceived.
My recent thoughts had to do with my father, Satya Kalra. And, it is not simply because Einstein is one of my father’s idols, as he grew in his love of science, eventually getting a Ph.D. in Aeronautics (yes, he is basically a rocket scientist). The thoughts had to do with the interesting aspect of time that has us fixated on what we are seeing and experiencing in the moment.
If you meet him today, you’ll see my father as a snapshot of who he is as a person. His current form may be a little slower, a whole lot grayer, and not quite as mentally sharp as a previous snapshot from his younger years. And, although he is magnificent just as he is today, the snapshot does not speak to the totality of who he is as a far more complex and brilliant person who has lived a remarkable 80 years and counting.
Given my current public role, I have the good fortune of being in a position to broadly share my relationship with my father regularly on social media. If you were to look at the nature of my current relationship with my father, it would be understandable to see me as the caretaker, protector, and provider.
However, looking at the entire band of time, it is quite clear that the opposite is true. Just as one may see me assisting my father in moving around comfortably, I see him picking me up from the backseat of the car and carrying me up a flight of stairs to lay me in my bed. One may see me cooking home-cooked meals for my father and find that endearing. I think more about how my father always made sure my brother and I had plenty to eat.
Even in my early years as an attorney, as a single father, he would muster up the best sabzi or dal he could to ensure I had one less thing to worry about after my long days in court. You may see me take my father on a day trip or a short vacation as a brief escape from the often-times mundane daily routine as a retired senior. I think about how my father first instilled the love of travel in me by always bringing me back trinkets and chocolates from far-off places when he would return from business trips. Eventually, he would even have me join him on trips on occasion to share more time with me in a new environment.
Some may be impressed with me being a lawmaker and having the opportunity to create policies to uplift the community. What people may not see is my early years having a front-row seat to a man who always sacrificed for his family and uplifted dozens of family members back in India because he never forgot his duty to his parents and family. And, you could be confused into thinking that because I may have a way with words, that I am in any way comparable to my father in intellect or reason.
In truth, my father has one of the most brilliant minds in math and science that I have ever met, forgetting more equations and theorems than I would ever even begin to know, let alone understand.
The reality is that there is nothing I have done or will ever do that will match what my father has been able to achieve. You see, like so many immigrants to America, his early years were tumultuous. He was born in Lahore in what was then India, his family home being in Gujranwala. As a small child, his family joined millions of others who, due to the cruel parting shot from the British colonialists, had to uproot from the only home they had ever known and flee with whatever they could carry to become refugees in their own country.
His family, which would grow to include three brothers and four sisters, would live in a ramshackle little home that eventually had the roof cave in on them. He grew up in a small town with no electricity, going to class at a school with one small building where they would be taught sitting outside with a small piece of slate and chalk.
As his family moved to Lucknow, his voracious appetite for education continued to grow as he would often be found falling asleep late into the early morning, studying by kerosene lamp.
For him to come from those beginnings, going to local public schools to eventually graduate from college at 18, get his Master’s at 20, and on his way to Canada to begin studies for his Ph.D. at 23 by itself would be remarkable. The fact that his parents had to muster up all the savings they had to send my parents and my then infant older brother to Canada and for them to live those first years renting a small bedroom in a house as he studied is just one of millions of stories of what immigrants from around the world have had to endure to provide a better life for their family.
Many more challenges and opportunities would present themselves in the decades that would follow. Certainly, landing in San José, California in 1978 would be a defining moment that would set in motion historic events in my life. And, more significantly, as I offered my father new challenges by charting my own, unusual course in my career, my father always loved and supported me, even if he did not always understand my decisions.
In recent weeks, I have gained an even greater appreciation for my father and all fathers who dedicate themselves to protecting and providing for their families. As we both watch the images of fathers being torn away from their families simply because of the color of their skin or the language they may speak, it is a stark reminder that our experiences are connected, even if they may be separated by when the snapshots are taken.
Hearing children screaming for their fathers is a painful reminder that I have been blessed to be able to live alongside my father for so many years. I pray that all families separated by war, economic strain, or small-minded tyrants find their way back to one another.
As for me, there is nothing I can get for my father for Father’s Day that will represent even a fraction of what he has meant to me and my family. So, for now, I plan to give him the most precious gift of all: time.
ABOUT THE WRITER
Assemblymember Ash Kalra represents California’s 25th Assembly District, covering most of San José, including downtown and parts of southeast Santa Clara County. Elected in 2016, he made history as the first Indian American to serve in the California State Legislature and was re-elected to his fifth term in 2024.
He is the first Asian American to serve as Chair of the Assembly Judiciary Committee and currently sits on the Housing & Community Development, Labor & Employment, Natural Resources, and Utilities & Energy committees. He is also Chair Emeritus of the California Legislative Progressive Caucus, advocating for civil rights, worker and economic justice, environmental sustainability, and housing equity. He previously chaired the Assembly Committee on Labor and Employment and the Committee on Aging and Long-Term Care.
For more information about the writer and his current work, please contact his staff Tuan Nguyen at Tuan.Nguyen@asm.ca.gov or his District Office at (408) 286-2535
