by Anil Chawla
Raj seemed taken aback; clearly, no potential wife had asked him such a question before. He thought for a moment and said, ‘You know, the usual. She should be nice, polite, and supportive. Should listen to me and my parents and look after us. She should take good care of the house and kids. And I want someone who earns well and contributes to the house.’
Kalpu struggled hard to maintain a calm exterior. Inside, she was seething. She wanted to put Raj in his place. ‘You jerk, you don’t want a life-partner, do you? You want a housemaid you can screw at will. And you expect her to bear your numerous children and bring them up all alone. She will get up at four in the morning, cook for everybody, pack dabbas for you and the children, go to work, come back in the evening and head straight to the kitchen to prepare dinner, right? And at the end of every month, hand over her hard-earned pay cheque to her mother-in-law! You bloody American-Born Confused Desi. Make life simple for yourself and others. Go to India. You will find many girls there brought up to think this is their duty. They’ll queue up to marry an NRI.’
Maria could read her face and held her hand under the table to calm her down. Raj’s parents offered to step out if the two of them wanted privacy. Nobody took up the offer.
Kalpu was quite relieved when the meeting got over. Raj and his parents mumbled ‘consult at home and get back to your family’ and left. Kalpu wanted to tell them to get lost but held herself back. The meeting had left Kalpu exasperated, and Maria suggested they relax with a drink. Maria wanted Kalpu to try caipirinha, Brazil’s national cocktail. The first drink vanished fast and, the second round (red wine), had just arrived when Raj Patel walked in looking for his car keys. Kalpu asked, ‘So, Mister ABCD, do you want a drink?’
His shock at seeing her drinking and his embarrassment at being called an ABCD left him tongue-tied. Averting his eyes, he hurriedly grabbed his keys and bolted. Kalpu was sure that the Patel family was going to snitch to her mother about her drinking. Kalpu was only amused; she’d neither done anything wrong nor hidden anything from her parents. There was nothing to worry about.
Kalpu swore off dating any more Indian guys in the US. If she wanted an Indian, she would go to India and choose a ‘nice homely guy’ who at least knew how to cook—since she herself had never cooked in her life.
After a few more casual dates, she met Tom through one of Maria’s friends. There was something special about him and she felt an instant attraction towards him. He was handsome, fun-loving, and adventurous. Their relationship lasted more than six months. In this time, they became exclusive, enjoyed a few weekend getaways, and even talked about moving in together. Their sexual chemistry was fantastic too. However, she soon realized that Tom was not ready to settle down. She also noticed a subtle resistance from Tom’s family and friends to his being in a long-term relationship with an Indian girl. He wanted to keep the relationship the way it was, but she saw no future for them together. With a heavy heart, she broke up with Tom. It took her many weeks to get over him. Maria was great company during that time. They often went out together and swapped stories over food and drinks.
After Tom, Kalpu became more cautious about getting into serious relationships and more focused on her work. She was promoted again soon, this time to head a department. She got an even bigger pay raise and enhanced perks. In between, she made a couple of trips to India. On every trip, her mother tried to get her to meet some prospective grooms. Kalpu conveniently ignored these attempts and went on living her life the way she wanted.
Professional Guilt
Getting onto the corporate fast lane is a bit like getting on a ship. No matter how fast you go, the horizon of success never gets closer. If you take your eyes off the elusive horizon, you realize no one is navigating, you don’t know how to steer the ship, and there’s nowhere to get off. The shore you’re leaving behind is your past—your school and college days, friends, parents, siblings, and other near and dear ones. The bittersweet memories of life threaten to pull you apart. On such occasions you realize that there is no such thing as work-life balance; there is life and there is work in it. If work leads to success, it intoxicates you. And there is no addiction stronger than success.
As the black Mercedes negotiated its way through what passed for roads in Sojat, Goky looked out on either side. The only things he saw were potholes and great puffs of dust erupting under the rolling wheels. He asked Darshan, his driver, to drive slowly as he wanted a better look. As the car slowed down and the dust cleared, a small temple built of red sandstone came into view. A surge of electricity ran through him. There was no way he could go on without stopping and offering prayers. Darshan stopped the car on the side, swiftly got down and opened the rear door. Goky stepped out and stretched his limbs; the long journey from Delhi had left him stiff. Moving towards the temple, he saw many eyes staring at him—of children playing in the street, men inside shops, women at the windows of nearby houses. He instantly knew why and regretted not having thought it through earlier. He was wearing a black suit, blue shirt, and a matching tie. His immaculately polished black shoes were now brown with dust. As he bent forward to take his shoes off, the temple priest emerged from somewhere and looked at him curiously. He was a man in his sixties, with a flowing white beard and a look of serenity. Goky washed his hands at the hand pump but as he approached the temple stairs, a strange feeling engulfed him. It had been almost twenty years since he had been to this temple.
***
In April 1988 Goky made a radical decision. Instead of taking up a conventional job, he opted for a company that offered information technology solutions to industries. He found an unexpected supporter in his mother, who encouraged him to listen to his heart and do what he wanted to. He joined ITS (I Tech Solutions) in July 1988 as a trainee engineer. Headquartered in Mumbai, ITS was founded by a first-generation entrepreneur in 1980 and had nearly 900 employees. IT was emerging as a high-growth area and many people with technical backgrounds were getting into it. In his first few weeks at ITS, his superiors saw a lot of promise in Goky. He worked hard, his problem-solving skills were strong, and he had a can-do attitude. His eagerness to learn, his willingness to go the extra mile, and his integrity were noticed and rewarded. He rose fast in the hierarchy and within eighteen months he was managing a team. A year after that, he was sent to the US and spent the next four years moving across clients and business domains. By the time the world started taking Y2K seriously, he had grown in position, stature and knowledge. Riches came along too. The scorching pace of the growth of IT led to a massive shortage of skills in the market. Jobs were chasing people and as a result, retaining key people was the biggest challenge for all IT companies.
Just before going to the US, another company had offered Goky a job with a substantial salary hike. Goky was interested in this offer, but then ITS offered him stock options with an eye on keeping him around. Goky chose to stay at ITS. Now, all these years later, the original stock options had grown manifold and the current value of his holdings in ITS was close to ten crore rupees. This was after selling some of the stock to buy a 2000 sq. ft. flat in Bandra a few years ago. Goky drew a salary in the high eight figures, and earned a handsome amount every year by way of performance bonuses. He was financially shrewd; he planned years ahead and managed his money very well. He had a balanced portfolio of investments cutting across asset classes. Through sheer hard work and dedication, he had created enough of a financial support system to last him and his family two lifetimes.
***
A soft voice brought him back to the present. ‘Have you come here before?’ asked the priest.
‘Perhaps a thousand times, Panditji,’ replied Goky, looking the priest steadily in the eye.
The priest seemed to strain his eyes and memory, and after a long pause, he exclaimed, ‘Gopal—son of Praduman and Yamuna?’
Goky nodded silently and stooped to touch the priest’s feet. The priest gave him many blessings and led him inside the temple. While some renovation work had
been done, it was more or less the same as he remembered. The parikrama, or central temple, was covered with carvings of deities and etchings in Pali. He had come here countless times with his parents, and with his schoolmates offering prayers and bribes in return for good marks. A smile came over Goky’s face. The priest brought him prasad which he took with folded hands. Then he touched the old man’s feet again and left the temple.
Darshan had already opened the door for him when Goky spotted a small teashop with a barely visible board that said ‘Lucky Tea Stall’. How many times he’d drunk tea here! Back then, it used to be run by Babu, a man in his fifties. Goky gestured to Darshan to come along. As they neared the shop, a man yelled at a small boy to clean a chair and table. Goky sat down, but Darshan kept standing. He asked Darshan to sit down next to him but Darshan pulled another chair to a corner and sat there. Goky ordered two cups of tea with less sugar in one. All the while, the man at the counter stared at Goky as if trying to recollect something. Eventually, there was a spark of recognition in his eyes and he said, ‘Mere Babuji to pichhle saal gujar gaye (My father passed away last year).’
Goky recognized the voice as Sonu’s, old Babu’s son. Sonu had recognized Goky even though more than ten years had passed. He kept calling Goky ‘saab’ and Goky’s efforts to dissuade him failed. Sonu asked Goky about his vocation. Goky’s efforts to explain information technology to Sonu also failed. He gave up after several attempts. He seemed to have come a long way in life. The connections with his past felt tenuous. Even if he stretched his mind the furthest it would go, Goky found it impossible to bridge the gap. When Goky took his wallet out to pay, Sonu refused to accept the money saying that Goky had come after many years and it was Sonu’s duty to offer him at least a cup of tea. Goky was moved. He took a reluctant Sonu’s hand in his own and shook it. Just as he made to move out, he heard Sonu say, ‘Mataji ka sun ke bahut afsos hua. Bas achanak ho gaya. Aap ko bahut yaad karte karte hi chal basi (I was sorry to learn about your mother. It happened so suddenly. She passed away thinking of you).’ Goky stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. The knowledge that his mother had died waiting to see his face had flashed in his mind a thousand times. The guilt was always with him.
***
It was in 1990, when he was in Mumbai, that he got a call from his older brother saying that their mother was unwell. Goky learned that Yamuna had occasional epileptic fits and during one such fit, she had fallen down and hurt her shoulder. Vinod took her to the hospital and she was prescribed medication for three years. Goky could not hold himself back; he talked to his boss, rushed home to hurriedly pack a bag, and boarded the first train home. The general compartment he got into was packed to the roof. One could hardly move. The berths were all full, and hundreds of people were sitting on the floor, even in front of the toilet. Goky was desperate to reach home and stood it all without a thought. The moment he reached home, he rushed into the room where his mother was resting. She was asleep. He sat beside her on the floor and gently put his hand on her forehead. She mumbled something and slowly opened her eyes, turned her head a bit, looked at him and smiled. Goky started crying, pulled her hand closer and buried his face in it. She seemed distinctly weak but her voice was firm, emphatic and confident: ‘Do not let anxiety weaken you, son. I expect more from you.’ She wiped his tears and stroked his hair affectionately. Her touch revived him magically. He got up from the floor and sat close to her on the bed.
Vinod’s wife Swati brought some tea and snacks for him. After struggling for a few years, Vinod had established a musical troupe which performed at various types of functions. The income was not regular but he had learnt to ride the crests and troughs. To steady his income, Vinod had opened a shop which sold audio cassettes and rented out video cassettes. Eventually, he also started renting out VCRs. All put together, he made a reasonable amount of money which took care of his and their mother’s needs. Their ancestral house was enough for the family. Once he was well-settled, Yamuna expressed her wish to see him married. Vinod and Swati were married in a simple ceremony a year ago. Goky could get only two days of leave; he arrived just in time for the wedding and left the next day. Swati was a home-loving girl and adjusted well with the family. The next time Goky got to meet his family was when he came home for a few days for Diwali. By that time, he had enough savings to bring some gifts for them—a Cambridge shirt and trousers for his brother, a saree for his sister-in-law, and a shawl for his mother. They were so happy that he had brought gifts for them—his mother particularly—because it meant he was earning more.
For the next couple of days, Goky spent all his time taking care of his mother. Often, she insisted that she was all right but Goky would not listen. When his leave came to an end, Vinod took him aside to have a word with him. Hesitatingly, he brought up his struggle with increased household expenses; their mother hadn’t been able to teach for some time and finances were strained. Swati was in the family way. Goky sensed that Vinod felt helpless, so he assured his brother that he would start sending money home periodically. The conversation brought Goky face-to-face with his responsibility towards his family. At that time, his salary was so meagre and living in Mumbai so expensive, that savings were next to impossible. The conversation with Vinod made Goky determined to find the means to support his family.
Back in Mumbai, he cut down all avoidable expenditure including weekend beer and eating out. The savings didn’t come up to much. He realized that the only way he could contribute in any significant way to the family was if he went overseas. He had learnt from his seniors that despite the poor allowances on overseas postings, the potential for saving was good. He worked harder than ever before. Finally, when he went to the US in 1991, he made it a point to send money home regularly. He used a calling card to phone Vinod’s shop at pre-arranged times so his mother could come there and speak with him. Those conversations rejuvenated him. For the next two years, he did not get to come back to India for any significant length of time. On the two short visits he made with clients, there was no chance of going home. When he told his mother this, he could almost hear the sad silence on the other end. He ended those calls with a lump in his throat.
With time, his credibility in the company grew. Then, he got an opportunity to go to India and avail of some leave as well. A team from a client company, comprising a technical head and several others, was to visit the ITS offices in Mumbai and Delhi to conduct an audit. They were also keen to see the sights while they were in India. By this time, Goky was managing a medium-sized portfolio and the business relationship manager asked him to accompany the clients to India. Goky’s long-pending request for leave was also approved. Goky was delighted at the thought of going home. The first stop was the Mumbai office, followed by Delhi. A sightseeing trip was arranged for the clients after the audit. This included a trip to Agra. Goky had ensured that a local employee was assigned to accompany the clients. He took leave of them and got on a train home.
He was met with a lot of excitement. A new member had been added to the family in the form of Vinod and Swati’s baby girl. His mother’s epileptic fits had reduced and she had resumed teaching. There were very few people in his town who knew much about the US. The kind of attention Goky got made him nervous. Many of the visitors were strangers to him but came over to him all the same to ask, ‘What have you brought for us?’
Towards the evening, when the family was left to itself, Goky settled down, opened his large suitcase, and took out gifts for everybody. He noticed a tinge of sorrow in his mother’s demeanour. When he got some time alone with her, he asked if all was well in the family. Yamuna nodded. Swati was a fine daughter-in-law and managed the entire household single-handedly. Vinod worked hard and took good care of them. ‘But,’ she added sadly, ‘I see you less and less now. You know, you have come home after more than two years!’
Goky hugged her tight like a doting son and said, ‘Ma, the US is so far and it is very difficult to get leave from work.’
/> ‘I understand, son. You have to work hard,’ said Yamuna sympathetically. Then she asked him about his life in the US, how he managed his meals and living arrangements. Soon enough, she brought up the subject of his marriage.
‘Ma,’ he gently tried to make her understand, ‘I have to settle down first and only then can I think of marriage.’ Yamuna did not pursue the matter further. To comfort her, he narrated in great detail how well he managed his life abroad, the wonderful new things he cooked at home. He saw that she was much more at ease. His leave passed far too quickly. On the penultimate day, Goky took his mother aside and handed over an envelope—it had five thousand rupees in it. He requested her to keep it a secret. He also whispered to her that he had been sending Vinod two to three thousand rupees almost every month.
Yamuna was surprised at this and exclaimed, ‘But Vinod didn’t tell me anything about this! I will call him right now.’ Goky appealed to her to keep mum and let things continue as they were.
That evening at the dinner table, Goky noticed an unusual poise and confidence when his mother spoke to Vinod and Swati.
As he was packing his bags, he noticed his mother pacing restlessly in the corridor. When he asked her why, she tried to change the topic. He persisted and she finally broke down. ‘I don’t know when I’ll see you again, my son.’
When the time came for him to leave, he had to drag himself away from her. Getting into the auto, he was almost in tears himself, but didn’t show it as it would have made his mother feel even worse.
Little did he realize what lay in store for him.
***
Sonu was still talking. ‘Bhagwan ki marzi ke upar kuchh nahin chalta. Sab kuchh uske haath mein hai (Nothing happens without god’s will. Everything is in god’s hands).’ Goky got himself together, thanked Sonu, and walked back to his car. Darshan was already there, and opened the door for him. They resumed their journey to Goky’s house, which was now barely five kilometres away. The traffic was a mix of cycles, cycle-rickshaws, autos, mopeds, scooters, motorcycles, very few cars, and some heavy vehicles. An occasional horse-cart could also be seen. As the Mercedes wove through the large and small vehicles, Goky kept telling Darshan to drive carefully so as to not hurt anyone. Some people stopped to stare at the car. As they reached the small roundabout from where they had to take a right turn into a narrow lane, Goky stiffened. It had been a long time since he’d last been to his ancestral home.