Depressed Anglo-Indian Woman in Canada!

There were promises made of a life so much better. A beautiful home, work for all, acceptance of multi-cultures, a place lorded as the solution to all their woes. Hope grew in her heart as they boarded the plane, leaving behind all she had ever known. The scorching heat, the monsoon rains, the fruit trees in the garden, the house of her childhood. So many cherished memories, confined to one small photo album pushed deep into her suitcase. A secret possession she kept close.

Landing in another world of white and freezing temperatures, she marveled at first at the unknown element. Hurried opening of suitcases off the baggage carousel to find warmer clothing and then forced into a world of spiteful cold. The snowflakes were not the gentle kiss upon a cheek, but a spiteful stab on exposed flesh. She watched a flat land pass by the vehicle window bereft of trees, shrubs and colour. What had she done?

Days and weeks passed, the cold was constant and unforgiving. Her family cramped into a small apartment, living out of their suitcases and struggling to understand the accents and customs. Where was that promised land? Where was the work for all? Her darker colouring, her broken English, her lack of skill, repeatedly received negative responses.

Four months on and she is cleaning office buildings at night. Hard physical work partnered by little or no sleep deepens her depression. She tries to nap, but daylight pierces the cheap curtains and the street below is busy with cars and sirens, chattering people and laughing children.

She was tricked, promises were broken and now she is stuck with no way home.