海角大神

A narrow road through blooming yellow mustard fields and wheat paddies reveals a cluster of terraced double-story houses, their bright white facades contrasting with colorful compound walls. But behind their padlocked metal gates, there is mostly silence.

Half of the village鈥檚 houses are deserted, their inhabitants having migrated long ago to the United States. The village, called Gilzian, is known locally as 鈥淢ini U.S.鈥�

So as Prime Minister Narendra Modi arrives in Washington Wednesday to discuss, among other issues, immigration, Gilzian鈥檚 residents are watching closely. President Donald Trump has promised to deport historic numbers of unauthorized immigrants over the next four years, and while Mexico and other Latin American countries have dominated media coverage of immigration, Indians make up the third-largest group of unauthorized immigrants to the U.S., at least according to recent Pew Research Center estimates.

Just last week, Gilzian watched as the first plane of Indian deportees landed in the nearby city of Amritsar. It was a somber day here in 鈥淢ini U.S.,鈥� but America鈥檚 deportation policy is also forcing locals to reconsider what it means to have a good life, and how to achieve it.

鈥淚t was heartbreaking to see Indians handcuffed and deported back on a U.S. Air Force plane,鈥� says Malkeet Singh, who left Gilzian in 1979, eventually settling in New York in 1994. He returned to the village last year to retire, but his two sons still live in the U.S.

鈥淭he people who try to migrate through the U.S. have to endure a lot of hardships,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey often have to sell their land, take loans, and mortgage their houses. They do all of this for their American dream: to live the best possible life.鈥�

Based on local census data, an estimated 95% of the people who migrated out of Gilzian are now living in the U.S., says the elected village head Sukhwinder Singh. (None of the Singhs in this story are related.)

The money they send back to Gilzian has transformed what was once a 鈥渟leepy, dusty hamlet of mud houses to sprawling mansions and paved roads,鈥� adds Mr. Singh, cruising through the village in his white SUV.

When India-U.S. immigration makes the news, it鈥檚 often in relation to the highly coveted H-1B visas, of which Indian nationals are the primary recipients, mostly for science or technology fields. But that鈥檚 not the full picture. In Gilzian and beyond, generations of Indians have followed their own, often winding paths to the U.S.

Sheesha Singh was among the first wave of people who left Gilzian for 鈥渢he American dream.鈥� It was 1977, and his first stop was Kabul, Afghanistan. After a few years doing odd jobs, he eventually made it as far as what was then East Germany before he was detained by police and deported back to India.

But his 鈥渉eart was still dreaming for the U.S.,鈥� he says. In 1985, he again ventured on a similar route and reached the U.S.-Mexico border in five months. He settled in New York as a taxi driver. When he got U.S. citizenship in 1996 his family joined him.

Once a year, Mr. Singh visits Gilzian, where he has built a big double-story house with eight bedrooms, but finds it 鈥渂oring鈥� and 鈥渄ull鈥� with hardly anyone to interact with. All his relatives and friends are settled throughout the U.S.

Indeed, decades of migration have led to loneliness in the village.

Charanjeet Kaur, whose two sons are living in the U.S., says that when a child is born in Gilzian their mother prays for them to reach the U.S., and when they make it, she prays for them to acquire their resident documents. 鈥淲hen they ultimately settle down in the U.S., mothers then keep praying for their return,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut most people do not return.鈥�

If anything, immigration seems to be growing. Pew Research Center data shows the estimated population of unauthorized Indian immigrants in the U.S. increasing from 325,000 in 2007 (when the overall unauthorized immigrant population peaked) to 725,000 in 2022.

Even Mr. Singh, the former cab driver who became a U.S. citizen in the 鈥�90s, feels that India-U.S. migration has gotten out of control, with young Gilzian residents coaching each other on taking what鈥檚 sometimes called the 鈥淒unki route鈥� 鈥� a multi-country journey named after a local idiom meaning 鈥渢o hop from place to place.鈥�

鈥淧eople are spending huge amounts [of money] on the Dunki route,鈥� says Mr. Singh. 鈥淚t has become a kind of culture.鈥�

This money could instead be spent within India to create different job opportunities 鈥� and fill Gilzian鈥檚 empty houses.

But 鈥渓iving life in the U.S. ... also makes people feel superior and important than those living back in India,鈥� says Mr. Singh. 鈥淚t comes with the status of being a resident of the world鈥檚 most powerful nation.鈥�

Indian migration expert Professor S. Irudaya Rajan, of the International Institute of Migration & Development, in Kerala, shares this concern.

鈥淧eople want to make quick money, become rich, and that is why they are spending huge sums to reach the U.S.,鈥� says Professor Rajan. 鈥淚f they invest that much money in India, they will not only get a good job but also create job opportunities for others.鈥�

Yet many villagers say they鈥檙e chasing an overall quality of life that only the U.S. can provide 鈥� even if it takes years to get there.

Kulbeer Singh, an 18-year-old who has taken a $30,000 loan and mortgaged agricultural land to move to the U.S. through the Dunki route, says he feels frustrated by Mr. Trump鈥檚 immigration policy. He鈥檚 currently planning to ride out the next four years in a European country, assuming he can find work.

鈥淗is [President Trump鈥檚] term will be over by then,鈥� he says, 鈥渁nd hopefully the new president of the U.S. will have an easy policy on migration.鈥�