I was self-conscious about being Indian-American growing up.

I was one of the few non-whites in the Christian school in Georgia that I attended.

My classmates ribbed me about my unusual name.

But maybe that’s normal – everyone is trying to fit in and find their place at school.

It wasn’t until Atlanta won its bid to host the 1996 Olympics that I realized how being an Indian American – especially in the south – can a strength.

Atlanta leveraged its diversity to attract members of the International Olympic Committee.

Atlanta lawyer Billy Payne had the idea to host Olympics, and he approached my father R.K. about “loaning” him Andrew Young.

Andy Young is the civil rights hero, former Atlanta mayor, and my Godfather. In the late 1980s & early 1990s, he worked for my dad at Law Companies.

My dad obliged.

Here’s what I wrote in my dad’s book Close the Loop.

“I don’t know of another company [Law Companies] that has contributed more to the Olympics, if you count my time,” said Young in 1992.

 

[Payne & Young] asked R.K. if he could convince members of Pakistan, Mauritius (which had a large Indian population), and India to support Atlanta.

 

Young believed that Atlanta should showcase its racial diversity and Southern hospitality at the same time.

 

For example, IOC members from Latin America countries were introduced to Roberto Goizueta, then the CEO of Coca-Cola, who was originally from Cuba.

 

Those IOC members from African countries met with African American civic and business leaders.

 

I vividly remember IOC members coming to our home for dinner.

My mother made kali dal (black lentils) in the kitchen for them.

In fact, the Indian IOC member showed my mother a secret recipe that was used in a maharajah’s palace in India.

To this day, my mother has never divulged this secret recipe.

Remarkably, one Indian IOC member was a close family friend of my mother.

My family played a modest but important role in delivering key votes from the South Asian community in support of Atlanta’s bid.

These IOC members were surprised that a southern American town had such a diverse citizenry.

I learned that I should be proud of my heritage.

On July 18, 1996 (one day before the Opening Ceremonies), my sister and I ran the torch.

We ran in Buckhead, a tony neighborhood of Atlanta.

It was dusk, turning into night.

My sister got the flame first and ran towards me.

As I waited, there were throngs of people all over.

“What is your name?” asked someone.

“Kabir,” I replied.

All of a sudden, the crowd started chanting my name.

The same one that some of my classmates had ribbed me about.

Incredibly, some of the same classmates were chanting too!

Folks wanted pictures with me and autographs.

A BMW motorcyclist appeared and the rider took my torch and switched on the gas.

I saw my sister approaching in the distance.

A blinding array of camera lights.

Hugs, tears.

My sister lit my torch, and I started my journey into the Atlanta night…

The next day, my family went to the Opening Ceremonies.

We saw the same flame that we had carried enter the stadium.

Evander Holyfield & Voula Patoulidou passed the flame to swimmer Janet Evans.

She passed the torch to Muhammad Ali who lit the cauldron…

…and sparked Atlanta’s beginning as the host of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games.