WELCOME TO LITTLE INDIA Vibha Deshpande turns the red Nissan Qashqai onto the yard road. Agastya, 5, and Arin, 10, get out of the car. The boys disappear onto the trampoline. The family's white brick house is located in the small house area of ​​Vapaala in West Vantaa. Deshpande pours red rose juice into the glasses and sits on the couch. He says that he received a similar message again on the networking service Linkedin. It was sent by a man who is moving from India to Finland for work. The wife is an analyst, and the husband asked if Deshpande could find her a job in Finland. 43-year-old Deshpande works at Microsoft in a responsible position. He gets requests almost every day. The questioners are Indian acquaintances or strangers who are about to move to Finland. The content is the same: can you act as a referrer? And almost always Vibha Deshpande refuses. "I don't want to recommend someone I haven't worked with or don't know personally," says Deshpande. He has learned that such a recommendation would be harmful to both. Deshpande moved to Finland in 2012. He got a good job at Microsoft. In his first fall, Deshpande went to meet a client at Nokia's office in Espoo. When he walked to the Kera train station, he began to rush. He had seen snow, but had not experienced snowfall. "I remember a strange thought: what if I'm buried in the snow and I'm found in the spring when the snow melts." A lot has happened during the twelve years in Finland. Deshpande is divorced. He has found a new love at the flea market. She has had a child. Five-year-old Agastya runs in, out of breath. He downs a glass of rose juice in one gulp. "I'm hungry," he says in English. It has probably been a fish day in the kindergarten, Desphande concludes. She goes to make her son a sandwich. In twelve years, Vibha Deshpande has also realized what determines whether an immigrant integrates into Finland. A person cooks in the kitchen at night or in dim lighting, on a stove next to a steaming pot. In Vibha Deshpande's opinion, the Indian community in Finland has been portrayed one-sidedly in the media. Two people sitting at a kitchen table, a bowl of fruit and a glass of drink in front of them, kitchen cabinets in the background. Vibha Deshpande's son Agastya aka Oggy is in a Finnish kindergarten. In the spring of 2023, India will overtake China as the world's most populous country. India has a population of over 1.4 billion and over 58,000 institutions of higher education. Only 1.5 million engineers graduate each year. It is far too much for India's own needs. But in Finland, for example, there is already a shortage of engineers and experts in many fields. And the situation will only get worse as Finland's population ages. Therefore, Finland has started to attract Indians. Finland has been advertised in the Indian media and on university campuses. Many have answered the invitation. During the last year, more than 2,800 Indians moved to Finland. In just a few years, a kind of Little India has been born in the capital region. Most Indians live in Espoo. The Indian community in Finland includes an estimated 16,000 people. Many of the newcomers are highly educated young couples or single men. The most typical profession is an IT engineer. Many Indians arrive via the so-called fast lane. Highly trained and highly paid special experts receive a residence permit in a few weeks. The average annual income of people born in India living in the capital region is more than 48,000 euros. That is five thousand euros more than the average person in Espoo. Newcomers are experts who move after work. When politics talks about work-related immigration, it means exactly them and care workers. And these professionals are sought after by other countries, which are threatened by the aging of the population and a shortage of skilled workers. In terms of Finland's future, the integration of Indians is a matter of destiny. But do they want to stay? Two people are talking outside on the porch of a house at night. Arvind Sharma and Vibha Deshpande met at the flea market in Keravala. They were united by their life situation and being Indian. Arvind Sharma comes home from work and sits next to his wife Vibha Deshpande on the sofa in a detached house in Vantaa. Sharma is the love found at the flea market. 43-year-old Sharma works as a lecturer at Laurea University of Applied Sciences. He has lived in Finland since 2008. When the couple ran into each other at the flea market in Kerava, they were united not only by being Indian, but also by their life situation. Both were having a hard time in their marriage. They started supporting each other. The discussions led to falling in love. Now they live a new family life in a middle-class small house area. Arvind Sharma has come home from work by bus and walked part of the way. "I love public transport and walking," says Sharma. Commuting to work in India's big cities easily takes two hours each way. Working days are also generally longer than in Finland. In Finland, Arvind Sharma gets at least three more hours a day for himself than in India. "It's a quality of life." Dozens of other Little India residents interviewed for this story echo the same: Finland has an incomparable balance between work and the rest of life. It is safe in Finland. Life is simple. "The Indian community is not a monolith." News has been read in India that Finland has been selected as the happiest country in the world seven times in a row in an international comparison. Even the Finnish media seem to be enamored with the story of Indians moving to the happiest country in the world. The stories have told about well-paid IT engineers. Vibha Deshpande has also been interviewed in such a story. But the tone of things annoys him. The Indian community is not a monolith, says Deshapande. He says he knows many Indians who are not doing so well. There are spouses who cannot find work in Finland. There are graduates from Finnish universities who are mainly offered jobs as food couriers or cleaners. The stories haven't mentioned how difficult integration can be. Integration should be about holding hands, says Deshpande. He had just moved to Finland when a Finnish friend took him to a grocery store. Then a friend took home and made potato soup. But very few newcomers have a handshake at the beginning. Integration can mean a language course where verbs are conjugated. "I'm going, you're going, you're going, we're going," Deshpande says in Finnish. For him, such courses are a waste of money. By refueling grammar, you won't learn the kind of everyday Finnish that would allow you to truly get closer to Finns and Finnishness. Two people sitting on the floor of a room playing a board game with colorful pieces and cards, dark wooden furniture can be seen in the background. Ten-year-old Arin (left) lives alternately with his father and alternately with his mother. Arin is in a Finnish-language school. Two people on the winch, one sits and watches while the other stands and holds the helmet. Tools and children's toys can be seen around. Agastya aka Oggy is playing with his father Arvind Sharma. Many Indians send their children to an English-speaking kindergarten or school. But Deshpande and Sharma's sons are in regular school and kindergarten. Deshpahde thinks that children should learn Finnish. It gives them roots. When the couple talks about their lives on the couch of their detached house in Vantaa, they sound more Finnish than most native Finns. They eat salmon and potatoes. They used to have a caravan that they used to tour campsites. They swim in natural waters. They have rented a cottage by the lake. According to Arvind Sharma, integration is the newcomer's responsibility. It is not enough to obey the laws. The unwritten rules of the country must also be learned. "In Finland, it's not customary to call on the phone in the subway." Sharma speaks of a "sense of citizenship". "In Finland, it is not customary to call on the phone in the subway or on the train. When the phone rings, here we quietly say: I'll call you soon,” says Sharma. At the campsite, you don't have to eat your own food at the barbecue. We clean up our tracks, and then we go to our place to eat. Attempts to integrate can be dangerous. In Finland, masters are also supposed to do small installation and repair work with their own hands. Well-to-do Indians are not used to that. In India, you don't even drill a hole in the wall yourself. It is cheaper to buy the work from an outsider than to spend your own time on it. When Arvind Sharma was about to climb up to the roof to do some cleaning work, a neighbor in his 80s rushed to the spot. "He said you can't do this alone," says Sharma. The neighbor advised how to fasten the safety harness. As the owner of a detached house, Sharma has had to learn manual skills. This summer he started building a fence around the yard. Sharma estimates that he will finish the fence by maybe a meter in one weekend. The neighbor came to the rescue again. 34 meters of fence was created during the summer. People enjoying an outdoor event in a park with food and drinks, families and friends gathered together. Divija Unhale (in the middle of the country) met family friends at the India Day celebration in August. Unhale has a three-year-old Divit boy in her arms. A large number of Indian couples and families move to Finland because of the husband's work. Many families have young children, with whom the mothers stay at home at first. But most of these women have had careers in India. When they would like to return to work, they simply cannot be found in Finland. The employment rate of Indian women in Finland has increased, but it is still only 49 percent. 38-year-old Divija Unhale moved to Finland because of her husband's work in the spring of 2022. Unhale stayed at home. The younger of the boys was eight months old and the older one was three and a half years old. Now the boys have grown up and Unhale would like to go to work. In India he had his own bakery. He has both a master's degree in food science and an MBA in the United States. Unhale is looking for a job in Finland, preferably in her own field. The family lives in Leppävaara, like more than 1,200 other Indians. Several Indian families live in the same crab. "We might go and ring the neighbor's doorbell. Or the neighbors come to visit us spontaneously. Especially in winter, social life is lively. Then it's not fun to go out," says Divija Unhale. Unhale could live the life of a housewife in an Indian bubble. A family preparing for a party in the kitchen, children dressed in traditional costumes, delicious food on the table. In September, Divija Unhale organized a party at her home in honor of the god Ganesh. Before leaving, the guests paid their respects to the Ganesh statue. Also in the photo are Unhale's sons Advik and Divit. Two children playing with toys on the floor on the balcony, in the background two adults are talking in another room. Divija Unhale's children, six-year-old Advik and three-year-old Divit, play on the balcony at a party organized in honor of the god Ganesh. Three children look at the blue door, one child points to the sign on the door. Divi goes to invite the neighbors to a party. Several Indian families live in the same crab. There are already so many residents in the capital region's Little India that you can easily spend your free time in completely Indian company. Espoo International School has a celebration or occasion of an Indian organization every week. Not everyone has the motivation to learn Finnish, because there may soon be a new work assignment in a new country. Residences are chosen near international schools and kindergartens. Divija Unhale's sons are also in English-speaking kindergarten and preschool. However, Divija Unhale has decided to learn Finnish herself. In August, he finished the intensive Finnish language course. Language skills can help you find a job. And there is another reason for learning Finnish: cricket. Divija Unhale is Finland's best women's cricket player. He was already a top player at a young age in India, where cricket is one of the unofficial national sports and there are millions of players. Unhale played for the Maharashtra state women's representative team and aspired to a place in the Indian national team. However, he decided to quit because of his studies. In Finland, Unhale rediscovered his beloved sport. "I was so happy when I could hold a racket in my hands again. It felt incredible.” Cricket has integrated him into Finland. Two people in sportswear hugging on a cricket field, with other players and a green field in the background. Divija Unhale plays in the women's team of HCC, or Helsinki Cricket Club. In August, HCC met SKK, or Stadi, and Kerava Krikettikerho at the Tikkurila cricket field. In cricket circles, everyone knows each other. Unhale hugs an opposing player before the match. A cricket bat leaning against the net, next to it are water bottles and a colorful bag on the grass. One in five of those who play cricket in Finnish leagues has an Indian background. There are approximately 1,500 licensed cricket players in Finland. One in five of them has an Indian background. Unhale's team is HCC or Helsinki Cricket Club. On a Sunday morning in August, the team will meet SKK, or Stadi, and Kerava Krikettikerho at the Tikkurila cricket field. Even a viewer unfamiliar with the sport can immediately see why the Finnish cricket circles have been so excited about Divija Unhale. Many of the players are beginners. Among them, Unhale is like a former NHL star who has gone to play baseball. Next spring, Unhale will officially become a representative national team player. At that time, he has lived in Finland continuously for three years. Sports circles are already dreaming of Finland playing cricket in the Olympics one day. Cricket is becoming an Olympic sport in Los Angeles in 2028. Finnish Indians like Divija Unhale play an important role in making the Olympic dream come true. Photos, flowers and other objects on the altar, indicating a place of remembrance or tribute. There is a Hindu temple in the basement of the Arora family's detached house. There are images of gurus on the altar, in front of which the participants in the ceremony place roses. Group of people celebrating indoors, women dressed in traditional ethnic clothing. Vineeta Hooda (left) and Jyothi Niraj Dayama attend a Hindu ceremony at Shefali Arora's place. Om, Jai Shri Jagtaran, Swami Jai. Sitting on the floor, Shefali Arora begins the song. It is an August Sunday afternoon in the Hindu temple built in the basement of a private house in Vantaa. Colorful pennants and vines made of plastic flowers are hung on the walls. On the back wall, LED lights flash like a tropical star garden. In front is an altar topped with images of spiritual gurus and Hindu deities. Roses and banknotes have been brought in front of the pictures. Gradually the temple fills up. Many newcomers are in their forties. A few women are wearing a Sari and the men are wearing a kurta, i.e. a long-sleeved shirt. Most people's outfits are Finnish everyday: shorts, jeans, t-shirts. There are school-aged children and a few babies. Lights are turned off during meditation. In the basement temple, only the hum of the air heat pump can be heard. Towards the end, it speeds up. Mistress of the house Shefali Arora sings into a golden microphone. The participants play rattles, a woman in her forties beats the rhythm with a ring drum. Two older women dance in front of the altar. Finally, the three-hour ceremony ends. Then we'll eat. The hallway is covered with disposable plates and warming containers. There is potato curry, chana masala or chickpeas in spicy sauce, chapati bread, kheer or rice pudding and puri bread cooked in oil. Hinduism is a visible part of Little India's life. There are already several temples in the capital region. Many Indians who moved to Finland may have lived a more secular life in India, but after moving abroad, the traditions and religion of their home country become like anchors. Even atheists participate in Hindu ceremonies. A person dressed in traditional costume serves in front of a festive setting. Shefali Arora is also a spiritual leader. In a Hindu prayer ceremony, he waves the tinsel in a circular clockwise motion on the altar in front of images of gods and gurus. People stand in line to get food at an event where a sauce or stew is served in a large white bowl. After the ceremony, we eat. Dessert is cheap. The owner of Kellaritemppel is successful business manager Shefali Arora. He holds a ceremony at his home once a month. On Friday afternoon, in the yard of an ocher-colored detached house in Leinelä, Vantaa, there is only the Arora family's Tesla. Shefali Arora heats tea and milk in a pot and stirs in a spoonful of sugar. With the milk tea, he offers pastries made from chickpeas. "We chose the house precisely because of the large basement and the proximity to the airport," says Arora. Arora is the chairman of the Finland-India association. The traditional association is celebrating its 75th anniversary this fall. Arora is the matriarch of the Finnish Indian community. We turn to him when we need advice. When the grandparents don't even get a visa or there are problems with the residence permit. Arora has relationships. Shefali and Rajiv Arora moved to Finland with their two small children in the early 2000s. Shefali Arora started at the Myyrmäki library counter, but soon got to Nokia and then Wärtsilä. Now 54, Arora is responsible for product design and life cycle services worldwide at Wärtsilä. Arora has followed the growth of the Indian community in Finland. In his opinion, the community has grown too fast. "There are not enough jobs in Finland for all the Indians who moved here," says Arora. Based on the statistics, the claim is true. Most Indians move to Finland for a specific job. But if you lose your job, finding a similar one is not easy. Employment difficulties also apply to Indians who have studied in Finland. Many have to settle for a low-paying job that does not match their education. "Even Finland doesn't want highly educated people to be in blue-collar jobs. Or do you want to?” Arora asks. "So is the name the problem? Or the face? Or skin color?” Problems in the labor market are often related to language skills. For educated Indians, English is often like a second mother tongue. In England, you can do well in multinational companies. But even in large Finnish companies, the everyday language is still Finnish, even if the business is done around the world. Fluent Finnish doesn't help either. The Arora family has personal experience of this. Shefali Arora's children were born in India but grew up in Finland. Daughter Kashika Arora is a professional dancer. "He has performed at Kaija Koo's concert at the stadium," says the proud mother. It was a star moment shared by the family: other family members also caught a glimpse of the gig being recorded. “He's damn good! And the only Indian woman in her field in Finland. Write about him!” Arora says. Son Gandharv Arora studied economics in Holland. He was sometimes employed by the elevator company Kone for a couple of years, until he returned to Holland to complete his master's degree. When the boy came to Finland as a master's degree, there was no work to be found. Gandharv Arora applied for almost 300 jobs before getting a job at Fazer. "He is a Finnish citizen who grew up here. He speaks fluent Finnish. Still, getting a job was really difficult," says Shefali Arora. He doesn't understand why getting a job is so difficult. Arora has heard that foreign names do not easily make it to the next stage of the search. He has been talking calmly at his coffee table. But now Arora is speeding up a bit. "We are integrated into Finnish culture. So is the name the problem? Or the face? Or skin color?” A sofa with soft cushions, with decorative flower bouquets and flower vines hanging on the walls as decorative elements. In the corner of the basement temple is an armchair where the spiritual guru sat when he visited Shefali Arora. Now the chair is decorated with plastic flowers. In the past, mainly North Indians immigrated to Finland, but now there are people from practically everywhere. Almost every one of India's 29 states has its own association and Facebook group in Finland. Is a business network of Indian women and a cultural society of Punjab. In August, India Day was held in Meripuisto in Etelä Helsinki, which was attended by more than 20,000 people, mostly Indians. India Day was organized by 17 associations run by Indians. There are also tensions under the surface. As you know, behind the scenes of the India Day, there was a dispute over the serving of food. Beef is not usually eaten in India, as the cow is considered a sacred animal in Hinduism. But in the state of Kerala some Hindus also eat beef. The Kerala representatives would have liked to sell beef at their own food stall. Some of the other organizers opposed the idea, and their position won. "On India Day, we want to present India's diversity. But then you don't want to," says a member of the Indian community. Mostly in Little India, however, there is a good sense of togetherness. Tensions are reduced by the fact that many Indians who immigrated to Finland belong to upper social classes and castes. Moving to Finland requires money. Finno-Indians are of course aware of each other's caste. Often the last name already tells the caste. Some Finnish Indians say that caste may matter a lot, especially in workplaces where there are many Indians. But the privileged may not even realize the impact of caste, says one community member. Two people standing in front of a glass wall, one wearing a black hoodie and the other wearing a white shirt under a blue jacket. 18-year-old twins Armaan (left) and Akshat Hooda are taking a gap year to learn the Finnish language and get citizenship. The question of the fate of a graying Finland especially concerns the children of Indians and other immigrants to Finland. Will they grow into new Finns who will stay in Finland? Can you take root in Finland if you don't know the language? For the Hooda twins, the question is topical. 18-year-olds Armaan and Akshat Hooda are playing soccer with their Finnish friends on Xbox on the couch of the Oodi library. The twins moved to Finland in 2017. When the pandemic started, the family sometimes returned to India for a year. Now they live in Pikku-Huopalahti. Mother is a teacher at Vantaa International School and father is a researcher at the Institute of Meteorology. In the spring, the twins graduated from the international IB line of the Finnish co-educational school, or Syki high school. They have a bright future ahead of them, but not necessarily in Finland. Armaan has received a place to study at the University of Cambridge and Akshat at the University of Toronto. Both plan to study computer science. After graduation, they will probably look for work in the world. With degrees from top universities, doors open for the twins, for example, at leading consulting firms. However, on Oodi's couch, they are planning to return to Finland in their thirties. Two men sitting in a waiting area, one of them shows a peace sign, the other holds a mobile phone, next to it is a backpack and a display board can be seen in the background. Armaan and Akshat Hooda go to play in the Oodi library with their old high school friends. Elias Ollila in the middle. The reason is quality of life. The twins have talked about the topic with many Indians who have moved to Finland. Everyone agrees. As Armaan Hooda says: "In Finland, the balance between work and other life is better than anywhere else." So that the brothers can easily return to Finland when they want to, they now want to acquire Finnish citizenship. And that's why they take a gap year, during which they learn the Finnish language in an intensive course at an adult high school. "I grew up in India, but Finland opened up the world to me," says Akshat Hooda. Finnish citizenship requires at least satisfactory oral and written skills in Finnish or Swedish. In addition, integrity is required. "I don't think that checking the criminal record is a problem for me," says Armaan Hooda. People traveling in the subway with orange seats and gray railings. Avashesh Kumar graduated from Aalto University and wants to find a job in Finland. Kumar takes the subway to the gym in Espoo. There are more and more Indians also in Finnish universities and universities of applied sciences. There are more than 200 Indians in Aalto University's master's and doctoral programs. About 150 Indians study at the University of Helsinki and more than 100 at the Metropolia University of Applied Sciences. After graduation, many would like to stay and work in Finland, but despite a Finnish degree, not everyone can find a job. 25-year-old Avashesh Kumar graduated from Aalto University with a master's degree in January. Since then, he has applied for at least a hundred jobs. He says that he often meets all the search criteria but still doesn't even get an answer. Sometimes he advances to an interview. Then he is almost always asked the same questions: Are you planning to stay in Finland? Yes, Kumar answers. Why? There are many reasons for that. "I love Helsinki. Here I can walk home at two in the morning without blinking over my shoulder. The same cannot be said about Delhi or London where I have lived. I have found a good life here," says Kumar. The path to this point has been difficult. Kumar moved from Britain to Finland to study in autumn 2021. Due to the corona restrictions, he did not meet anyone. The country was foreign. The language was incomprehensible. He knew one person from Finland, his brother Animeshi, with whom he lived in Niittykummu, Espoo. “I had mental health problems. I missed people,” says Avashesh Kumar. The whiteboard attached to the refrigerator door with magnets and a marker pen contains an updated shopping list that mentions yogurt, chicken, onions, coriander and garam masala powder. Avashesh Kumar lives in Jätkäsaari with his brother. The brothers cook Indian food together at home. A person stands in the doorway of an open yellow building, bicycles in the background in the twilight. Avashesh Kumar wants to stay in Finland and learn the language. Kumar was also saved by cricket. The Indian cricket community in Finland heard about the situation of the newcomer. They lured him along. They gave the equipment and the opportunity to attend training for free. “They treated me like a member of their family,” says Kumar. Now Kumar also has a lot of Finnish friends whom he met at Aalto's tennis club. He has just returned from a tennis club trip to Croatia. They played there during the day and celebrated in the evenings. Kumari's brothers live in Jätkäsaari today. The living room has a huge TV and two multi-screen workstations. Four cricket bats lean against the wall. However, cricket is now on hiatus, as job hunting takes so much time. Kumar has also started studying Finnish. He has had internships at Kone and Vaisala and now at Fortum, but the internship is coming to an end. Kumar's residence permit is valid until the end of next July. You should find a job by then. There is one more compelling reason why Avashesh Kumar wants to stay in Finland. "I have a Finnish girlfriend." A room with a backlit sun shining through an open door, creating a strong light effect in the interior, which includes chairs and a table. Avashesh Kumar has made it to the Finnish national cricket team, but now playing is on hiatus due to a job search. At home in Jätkäsaari, he trains with his brother with a soft ball. Autumn evening gets dark in Vapaala, Vantaa, at the home of Vibha Deshpande and Arvind Sharma. Evening measures should be taken gradually. Deshpande and Sharma are leaving for India soon. It is a mourning journey. Sharma recently lost his father and Deshpande his mother. They attend their parents' memorial services. In the past, both parents visited Finland regularly and spent the maximum period of a tourist visa, i.e. three months, at a time. Grandparents are very important to Indians. They rush to help when a baby comes into the family. Or when someone gets sick. Or just otherwise. Many Finno-Indians have struggled with the fact that their grandparents have not received a visa to travel to distant Finland to support their children. The neighboring couple have become like step-parents to Deshpande and Sharma's sons. Arvind Sharma goes to pick up the instrument. It is an Indian harmonium that Vibha Deshpande got from a neighbor's man. Deshpande plays Ieva's polka on the harmonica, a Finnish folk song about nuapur. "Space helps you find yourself." The boys and Deshapande are Finnish citizens, but Sharma does not yet have a Finnish passport. The reason is a small field plant that Sharma inherited from India. India does not allow dual citizenship or land ownership for foreigners. That's why he has put it off. The passport would leave the field. But maybe it's coming soon, because Arvind Sharma, who has lived in Finland for 16 years, has realized that he is more Finnish than Indian. When Sharma travels to India, after two weeks he starts digging back in Finland. There are no queues in Finland. No traffic, no noise. The last time he got nervous was on his trip to India, when relatives threw plastic bottles into nature at a family party. Sharma collected the bottles. The children of the relatives wondered what the uncle was doing. That's the job of the cleaners. "I couldn't help myself." Sharma says he realized that Finland has changed him as a person. "The feeling of space, the spaciousness of life has freed the mind. Space helps you find yourself." Arvind Sharma found himself a family man from Vantaa.