Brief Blurb

An emotive ride of romance and twists, it is the story of trials and tribulations of an ordinary man of modest means, his story of success, like a Dark Horse becoming a winner. It’s a saga of his success in Iran and romance with an American woman, her tryst with Iranian Revolution, her face to face with tyranny and qualities of human perseverance!

The novel deals with the events during Iran’s Cultural Revolution causing the end of Shah of Iran. Therefore, it will have worldwide appeal especially for Americans and other foreigners who were caught in the quagmire of those events. It will also be appealing to Indian audience and Non Resident Indian Diaspora abroad, and IIT and CMU alumni.

New Beginning

1975 – NEW BEGINNING

2

I was ecstatic going on my maiden flight to Tehran. Looking down below from the plane window at the pattern of lights, I was mesmerized and I tried figuring out as to what streets and which neighborhoods we were flying over. It was night time, yet it was truly amazing and my emotions were traveling faster than the speed of light. I was still quite young and the zeal and enthusiasm of youth was spilling over my conscious mind and overpowering my outward expressions and even verbal mutterings for that matter. The life appeared beautiful. My female acquaintance from my old office sat next to me. She just wanted to have some known company. I kept expressing my wonderfully wild outpourings with wide eyed eloquence. I didn’t have a wink of a sleep that night. The anxiety of the very first flight of my life, the thought of going to a foreign country, the fear of new challenges and above all going away from home kept me awake and wondering about the future, what it had in store for me.

My flight wasn’t all that long and tiring. In fact it was pleasant and exciting. The airhostesses were pretty and very helpful. They took care of me rather nicely. For an international flight and a short one at that, a merely three hour all told, they served us scotch, wine and a nice decent meal too. And as I said, that was my first, maiden airborne experience. There was nothing I could compare it to except the train rides I had and they were different altogether. In fact the train rides had a certain amount of nostalgia as we had grown with the choo-choo sound and the rollicking motion in the train, and the odor of coal particles mixed with steam and the sounds of steel wheels rolling over the steel tracks and making screeching sound. However, air travel had a different aura for me. Trains didn’t have beautiful hostesses serving you but on a flight there were hostesses galore.

The landing at the Tehran’s Mehrabad International Airport was quite exhilarating. I looked out of the window and got lost in the warmth and sensitivity of my mother and memorable moments just prior to my journey. The memory was absolutely vivid and I could see it flashing across my eyes right at this moment.

xxxx

Actually the voyage that began the previous night from New Delhi was exciting enough not only for me personally but for my parents, brothers and sisters and even my old office mates. My Mom had wet eyes. I forbade her from crying when I left for Tehran. It was like a bad omen. I never liked crying faces, especially not my Mom’s or for that matter my Dad’s or any other person’s. I was overwhelmed with their emotive outbursts. But I was too engrossed in my own happiness that nothing else mattered to me that much. I didn’t think I would be missing any of my family or friends. I couldn’t feel sad at al after all it was a family affair and I was doing it for the family too.

For me personally this Tehran job was like turning a new leaf and I felt the exhilarating joy with it. After a long dry one year spell of sustained efforts I could alleviate my miseries or misfortunes fairly quickly, as one might say. I had grabbed a brand new high paying job in Tehran after a job-drought of whole one year. I was running out of options and bang, I was called out of almost a thousand aspirants. And that was why precisely I didn’t want sobs or wet eyes and crying faces to celebrate a happy occasion like this one. Indian Moms weren’t accustomed to all these etiquettes of modern day living, they were still the same old sentimental fools for their children; couldn’t see them go away. They didn’t want to let go the child even though he wasn’t a child any more but a fully-grown adult, but how did it matter to a mom! Family cohesiveness!

Two women colleagues from my ex-office had also come to see me off. One of them was close to me in relationship compared to the other, can say a girlfriend in a very loose sense of the term. We did like each other no denying, we even dated for most of the last year or so. But other than that if you asked me, what more?!! I would say ‘Nada’, meaning simply ‘No’.

I was a Brahmin boy and she a Sikh girl and the ‘Twain’ could never meet. Her mom knew about me being her boyfriend but nixed anything beyond what it was, no marriage between a Sikh and non-Sikh. So that was that!! This girlfriend of mine didn’t have enough guts; at least that’s what I thought about her then and I told her so. The least she could do was to argue with her mom or could have told to take a hike, But no, she couldn’t do that, pray why? She didn’t know or she didn’t care to know. Perhaps, because I didn’t have much money at that point in time, I didn’t have a decent job and decent salary. It all boiled down to the matter of money rather than the matter of heart. Still she couldn’t resist coming to bid me farewell. Perhaps there was some spark in her heart for me, which prompted her to come to the airport to see me off since it was like seeing me for one last time, bidding adieu. She did ask me whether I would call her to Iran, I reminded her that I had told her I wanted to take her to Iran with me, but it was she who was behaving indecisive. I had, indeed, invited her to come to Iran with me just the last month when I was getting my visa to Iran but she declined to come with me then; in her own words, she said that she was not sure whether we even loved each other; she was not ready then or now or ever, I knew.

The fact of the matter was that it gave me quite a hurt; I longed for her company in Iran, I truly wanted her with me. I had strong emotions for her or rather I surely had started to enjoy her as a companion. I might even venture to say that in a way I had feelings of love for her. But, I was not sure if she even loved me. Actual fact was she wanted to keep her options open, and by the same token I had my pride, so the same applied to me too. I just couldn’t let her walk all over me.

We both knew that this is the end of the road for us. Our final goodbyes! Our nascent love ended, ‘finito’ before even we had a chance to nurture it further to let it blossom. Not that we didn’t have some very good time together. We went out together to the cinema, restaurants and up to the river Yamuna to watch the morning sun. But we never openly expressed our love to each other, we hesitated; and so it could as well had been the last goodbye for us, which indeed it was. Somehow, at that moment I felt a constriction within, I was sad. I probably thought I loved her at one time but couldn’t bring it to my lips to tell her that since it wasn’t manly enough in my opinion; it was like fighting my ego, my masculine pride. On the outside, I held the strength of steel, a façade of bravado; while, inside I was actually not so brave, I knew I was going to lose her. How could a man utter words like love, sorry, etc.? My smugness came in my way and our airport tryst became a simple ‘so long’ forever. I could hold out a carrot to her and offered to call her to Iran, but that would be a deceit, contrary to my beliefs. It would be dishonest of me to make false promises, the promises I could not keep. It would sure be convenient to call her there and she would, perhaps, come also on the premise that I would marry her and it would be cool to her owing to the fact that I would have cushy job and money. I would certainly enjoy a great pleasure with her physical proximity, but at the cost of being not so truthful to her since I had no inkling to marry her anymore. I couldn’t do to call her to Iran. I wanted to be a free bird. So if I did call her to Iran pretending I would marry her, I would not be able to face the mirror ’cause I would see a ghost of a liar, a con artist. It was Macbethan delusion! So ultimate farewell!!!

Besides my family and office friends, my neighbors too bade me farewell, this did not happen at the airport, they came to my home to say their goodbye since their coming to the airport would have been cumbersome for all. They didn’t own any cars then. The automobile revolution was still distant in the future; rental cab would have been their mode of transport. Way too expensive.

My neighborhood people knew my parents well and hence me too. That was the Indian cultural phenomenon; one was part of a giant extended family. One’s existence was because of one’s parents’ existence. Indian culture had none of the existential thoughts then, it was very much spiritual and God fearing. I didn’t know most of them but they knew me by face and rather well. Our neighborhood consisted of middle class ethos and mentality. There was great warmth and fellow feeling; everyone cared for the other it was like a big family. It had its negatives too though; curiosity of knowing what is happening in other’s homes and also poking their noses in other’s affairs was something one could never digest of! But still there was a sense of belonging and togetherness.

They had gathered at my parents’ home where I stayed those days. It was from there I was to set off on my journey to board my anxiously awaited flight, the flight that would take me away miles and miles for the distant land, the wild blue yonder, a mirage - if I might call it - of my fertile imagination. They gave me a very warm and touching send off to the new horizon, to the shores out there I was ready to venture out to, which was something beyond their comprehension, and probably beyond my wildest dreams. For them it was a big day, times were difficult in circa 1975 for middle class Indians, scarcity ruled the roost. So these moments gave them a sense of pride; for the first time one of their kin was making a new endeavor into an unknown territory on his own without the protection of his parents and extended family.

They all had some or other story of yonder to tell us, all sorts of wild tales; they were all putting in their bit putting in their effort to show they are not ignorant about Tehran. The stories they gave they might have heard from some distant relative or from their friend’s friends or acquaintances but not their own personal accounts or even story of any person that they really knew personally that was close to them. One could make out that those were merely stories, made up fantasies from the figment of their imagination for the consumption of the people around us to project their image larger than life, and not to be let down by other neighbors in the crowd. It was just a pretend game for them to look knowledgeable. They did not want to remain behind, it was mainly to boast about ‘been there, done that’, sort of having ventured to an exotic foreign land like Iran. And in a way, the stories mainly concluded with that it was no big deal to go to Iran. Any way, even with all such insinuations they meant well for me. To be honest there was a tad bit of jealousy in the voices of some of them. But really, no one boded any sort of ill will towards me.

My feeling was these neighborhood gatherings were normally pretty boring. And this was no exception. No one had any musings, subjects or tales that could attract and hold my attention at all. No one had any personal anecdotes or travails to narrate or rattle off about the travel abroad. Their main thrust in that little gathering was in snacking and small talk. What was going on was actually meaningless there was nothing that could hold my interest in anyway.

Amidst all the noise and merry making, my focus was not on ‘what was’ but on ‘what would be’. Although I participated in the conversation with the people and my family but ultimately they could not hold my attention. My mind was weaving the web of my new surroundings far away from that maddening crowd of where I was. My aim was to bring out the best in me to which would reflect my potential and intelligence, and then I could build on it better and higher with time. For me getting this far was a product of my hard perseverance and dogged determination to keep searching for that one key opportunity that was ordained only for me and now was at last, that last moment of the exceedingly ‘new beginning’ for my whole life ahead. I could smell it and feel it down my spine. What a wonderful world it was.

xxxx

I was excited with the new beginning; a new leaf would turn in my life. I had no doubts about my prowess and I believed that a bright and successful future lay ahead for me; I anticipated dark clouds to go away and golden sunshine to appear in my life and make it more vibrant. What destiny had in store for me I couldn’t fathom since I didn’t believe in destiny? But I knew about my own ways of tackling problems and coming out clearly ahead of other competitors. People usually didn’t first believe in my ways that I would attain success. But ultimately I always did achieve and achieved things with passion. I always came out smiling like a lark and smelling like a rose. The race was mine to win!

I was laughing at myself, thinking of all that jargon. It had a very good reason to behave in such an irrational way. The fact of the matter was that having had one hell of an education- what I meant was- from a topnotch school, IIT Kharagpur; it did not give me what it promised that is earn a decent living. What a joke! What a travesty of justice! My highly valued alma mater could not guarantee me what I expected it to precisely do to me. Those credentials should have helped me provide- in my own profession- some semblance of good generous pay packet to be able to avail the comforts and luxuries I had aspired to have. Was it too much to ask for? Really!

Perhaps, some of it was because of my own folly. I must admit that I was quite a simpleton towards the worldly ways. There were ways by which one makes things work for self like I could have compromised with the circumstances like resorting to bribery, licking up bosses and undercutting my coworkers and friends in order to go forward. My problem was these were not acceptable to me and there somehow I fell short in fulfilling my dreams. I never thought these traits to be in any way appropriate or the right thing to do. At least this was not for me; treachery didn’t make any sense at all. So there I was getting rewarded for self-pity. It dawned on me that I was an out of place in my own country and thus by default, perhaps, my own country didn’t have much need of me.

Or rather it had in the sense of making me a foreign exchange commodity, or by way of euphemism, made me a special breed of an Indian called an NRI, a Non Resident Indian. We could articulate it in a more circumspect thought, though it sounds tongue in cheek, that my own motherland had exiled me to a foreign land for a few pieces of gold so to speak. That way I was liable to send back few pieces of gold, dollars whatever little or more I could, out of shear love for my land of birth. The sweat money sent back home was not called taxes, oh no, not at all, it wouldn’t be appropriate or politically expedient. Would it? But we did definitely know, however, that Mother India did enormously benefit from the NRI dollars and we mustn’t forget that. Unless we would rather be ungrateful bastards! But nevertheless I was quite pleased with my new beginning. I looked forward to meeting and mixing with new people, learning new ways, knowing new culture and speaking new tongue, all very fascinating state of affairs I must say!

I stepped out of the plane and on to the ladder, I felt the first breath of the new air, the oxygen of an unknown land touched me, it was the name of a country I had only read in the newspapers or seen in history books, now it had become so real, that I felt as if I can touch it! An overwhelming reality dawned on me and I looked around turning my eyes from one side to the other. I didn’t want to miss any of the panoramic view of the new land as a world citizen. It struck to me at that moment in time that I could, from then on, embark on my destiny writing it with my own two hands. The horizon was opening up in my mind. I recalled that I hardly ever went to a temple or a church or for that matter a mosque to pray. Whenever I visited any of the religious places it was more for the sake to satisfy my curiosity as to the building details and to study them as historical monuments. I had never bent my head down before any deity to ask for anything for myself as I never had felt the need for doing so. So at that hour of truth I couldn’t honestly pray or call upon God but reflected back on my will, grit, strong determination, sense of responsibility and my own two hands. They were the ones that had helped me create the destiny of where I was standing at that moment. Sumptuous thoughts!

Looking around I gathered it was a gray morning, absolutely sordid looking. There was whitish haze in the air. It was the result of very fine snowflakes suspended in the air. Very gently snow was falling and on realization of the phenomenon I decided to take back my previous conceived adjective ‘sordid’ for the weather. In fact I quite liked the feeling. So I held out my hand to the air outside to directly experience that fine white fluff. Oh, what a wonderful cold wetness ‘twas. It was quite different for a change compared to where I came from. There wasn’t any sun at all. The snow-laden clouds won’t let the sun come out. They had their romancing to do up there in the mid air covering the old sun with a thick white blanket of cotton-woolly fluff. Speaking of the light there was light all right. It was from the building lights and also from some floodlights on the tarmac. Other than that it was still on the border of being dark, yet slowly speck of a very faint light was trying to make its appearance known to us lowly creatures, the human beings. Trees at a distance were only silhouettes of skeletons of themselves. They were devoid of all the foliage due to harsh winter. Even so, they made it a point to keep their nakedness under a wrap. By golly they did it so beautifully with a coat of fine white snowflakes covering their bare bones - branches and trunks. They all had the same color tone of the falling white powdery stuff, merging from the ground below to the trees above. And beyond that what eyes could register small shrubs or shacks lay under the open sky. That was what my contemplating vision could gather just at a quick glance. It was so different from where I came and that made it so intriguing and charming, something new. That was straight from some of the French or Russian short stories or a Kafka novel that I had read, it had similar landscape, similar weather, and similar trees. I walked along with my small carry-on baggage down the stairway on to the tarmac. A bus was waiting for the passengers to take us to the arrival building. The bus was heated inside and had a low floor. The driver was courteous and greeted us in Persian, which I couldn’t make head or tail of. It went something like ‘sobe-kher’. It must have meant well. So I also waived and bowed my head a little and boarded the bus. Thus far it went rather well. Clearly, I thought the beginning was terrific and my life was there to change for the better. At that point of time I only looked forward to getting in the building and quickly finishing all what was needed for the visa counter and immigration check. One thing at a time!

As we came to the arrival building and bus came to a halt, I noticed that it was aluminum and glass panel facade of very much new and modern international style building. It was a pleasant change compared to what we had in Delhi. As I entered the door into the building behind the line of people in front of me, I saw some signs in English indicating where the ‘tourist visa’ people go and where people with ‘entry visa’ to go. I clearly had the ‘tourist visa’. I went to one of the counters designated for that. That being my first trip to another country other than Nepal, I didn’t know how all it went. I was young and perhaps a tad silly or ignorant to put it in perspective. Of course, I was warned before my flight to Tehran that Iran had a very strict totalitarian regime and I must be careful not to do any action that might offend the cops or military. So there was a little bit of apprehension against making any mistakes. But then what would be a mistake, I couldn’t say or imagine. So it was better to act ignorant and to ask the men in uniform to act decisively about any silly little thing and then do whatever was required of you to do. With all the complicated Immigration Forms and Custom Forms and multiple language entries, I managed to fill the forms out correctly. The stamped and approved form had to be kept with me at all times till I left the country on an outward journey to another country. So I tried not to make a mess of the form and I did it just right. Any way, I fretted and fumed for no apparent good reason. The paperwork turned out to be a bloody damp squid. There was no sweat and it was one hunky-dory sort of a thing. It was done in a very courteous and reasonable way. Perfect! None of those robots in the uniform gave me any grief. Rather, as it were, they were polite and helpful and I thought I felt agitated inside unnecessarily. Needless to say, most of the time we were silly. Any way, after the form was approved and stamped I went to the baggage claim area by the conveyor belt and got my baggage on to the trolley. I took a breath, or two for that matter, to find my bearings. Then I took hold of me and darted to the exit gate to go to the arrival lounge.

There was quite a crowd beyond that gate. In fact there was a four feet high stainless tube steel railing and leaning against it were a lot of people of all colors, mostly Caucasians, some Indian looking, yelling and waiving placards with names scribbled on them. Some of what they said was completely incomprehensible, however, some of it I could understand. Still I was lost completely. What I was looking for was some one with a placard with my name ‘Om Jai’ on it. That was what was of an immediate concern to me. But I didn’t see none. At that moment I needed a face, a body that had the desired placard with my name inscribed on it. Such recognizable inscription, naturally, would be a sure ticket for me to take me out of this mess of totally unfamiliar surroundings of the airport and on to a hotel to stretch my legs. It would be an unknown hotel, with an unknown destination in an unknown country with a lingo that I had no knowledge of at that particular point in time. But I was not worried as much about the knowledge of an unknown entity of a hotel but my plight of not finding or seeing anyone with my name on any paper or card board or a small billboard. So there!

It was a dilemma. It was my destiny that brought me to that place and I was pretty much sure that my employer must have deputed some one for my assistance. Incidentally in IIT, Kharagpur, that was my alma mater; my name ‘Om Jai’ was OJ, an acronym for orange juice. We always took pride in naming the deer ones at IIT with special names of choice. So I was OJ. Another friend of mine Kaushik was christened ‘Cow Shit’; I seriously thought that it was much too below dignity. But he loved it. That was camaraderie. That was how people become bum chums.

So any way, with all these deep emotions I still was looking for some one with my name on a placard. How else would I know who was there to escort me? I waited. I was on the verge of becoming frantic. Then something happened. And sure enough my gaze wandered hither and thither and then stopped on a gentleman entering the arrival lounge from outside. He was not too tall and was fair skinned Iranian gentleman clad in an overcoat and a woolen felt cap. He was hurriedly coming towards the gate from where the arriving passengers were emerging to the arrival lounge. That was where I had positioned myself. My intention was not to miss out the stranger that would be my escort. I was right at the spot from where I could watch curious persons searching for someone like me, and perhaps holding a little paper with my name. This person coming towards the gate stopped for a moment. I could see a briefcase in his right hand. He put it on a counter and took out something that resembled a placard and put it on the counter as well. Then he unbuttoned his overcoat. He then picked up the placard. I was kind of curious about this placard that he was in the process of holding high. Since the gentleman that came in was neatly dressed with a suit and a tie underneath the overcoat, clean cut and about five feet six inches tall, I had an intuition that that was the gentleman for me. After he took out the placard and held it up slightly higher up, I could see from an angle what could be read as ‘Om’. My doubts that that gentleman had come to escort me to the hotel were proving to be true. As I went a little closer to him, I could see my full name on the placard. I was sure the Iranian wouldn’t be able to recognize me since I was not the only Indian in that crowd. There were quite a few Indian doctors and engineers that had come there to try their fortunes as well.

I walked up to him and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at me perplexed and in a moment he was back to his normal self. I smiled and said, “Hello! Good Morning! I am Om Jai from India. You must be looking for me.”

By now he was reassured of the fact that he had the man he had come to the airport to fetch. He grinned, his eyes became bright and he said, “Oh, hello!” and took my hand and shook it very warmly and holding it strongly, he continued, “Agaye Om Jai! How are you? My name is Beh Bahani and I am your project manager. I have come here to take you to the hotel and acquaint you with the project and Tehran.”

I couldn’t make head or tail of the prefix ‘agaye’ that the gentleman made with my name, but it seemed like some title. But, anyway, regardless of not knowing what that meant, I extended the courtesies too, “Very pleased to meet you Mister Beh Bahani. And how are you? I was looking forward to meeting you and working with you. Thank you for all the trouble you took to come here and help me out. I am sure there must have been other people in the office that could have taken care of this for you” I had genuine warmth in my voice and my demeanor exhibited cheerful disposition, I kept smiling all this while.

His attitude was courteous and he said cheerfully, “Oh, that’s no problem, Agaye Om Jai. I wanted to meet you personally before we met at the office.” This time I figured it out that this new word was ‘agaye’ and it was sort of equivalent of ‘mister’ perhaps. Beh Bahani had paused but before I could add my two words he queried me further, “Any way were you waiting for long? I am sorry, I didn’t account for the traffic properly and I got late a little bit. I hope it didn’t cause you too much of inconvenience. Where is all your baggage?”

I said in a supportive tone and in a polite manner, “It hasn’t been that long. I didn’t have to wait all that while. Thank you indeed for your concern. That was so nice of you Mister Beh Bahani. But really, please do not worry about it. It’s all right. And for my baggage, I only have a suitcase in addition to this shoulder bag.”

He said, “Well good. I am relieved that everything is all right. I was worried for a moment. I have a request to make. Please don’t call me mister. It sounds like a little unfamiliarity in this part of the world. It will be better if you called me ‘Agaye Bahani’, Agaye is a word for gentleman in Persian.” I was glad that he explained this new word before I even had to ask about it.

“Very well, I got it. So it will be ‘Agaye Bahani’ from now on.”

“All right, then, ‘Agaye Jay’! Let’s go. Follow me; my car is outside next to the sidewalk. Do you need any help with your baggage?”

“Agaye Bahani, please don’t give it a second thought. I have no problem carrying my suitcase. But thanks any way. And now I have to make a request. Please call me OJ and not Jai. If you do add this ‘Agaye’, please call me ‘Agaye OJ’. Right!”

He smiled, his eyes squeezed a little, and he said, “Well, now that we have our names all squared away. We would just be getting along fine. I like transparency and frankness and you have it all and I like it. Let’s go.”

“Agaye Bahani! I am coming right along.” I liked his lucidity and swiftness.

I was wearing a long thick woolen overcoat that had kept me solidly warm regardless of the outside chill as we came out of the terminal building. The building itself was heated inside. But coming out of it was another matter. It froze my bones. Well not all the bones if I must, but only the ones of the face, neck and hands. I wasn’t being fastidious but just wanted to set the record straight. Also, I hadn’t put on a muffler or gloves. But then a youth like me didn’t need them. Or would one? It could be a toss up, ‘six of this or half a dozen of the other, take your pick’. The fact of the matter was I wanted to enjoy the cold weather and the snow. What other way could I enjoy but to experience the chill down under my skin, on tip of my nose and on the lobes of my ears. Oh, what a feeling!

We were by his car in just a few moments. He opened the trunk and I hauled up the suitcase in it and he closed the trunk. Then he unlocked the car doors and asked me to take a seat. It was early January and was cold in fact bitter cold. As he started the car and we were a little way on the street, he turned on the fan and when the hot air came through the air grilles and hit the cold skin of the face, one noticed the difference. Outside there were piles of snow on both sides of the street and on the sloped roofs. There was bright haze of the daylight but the sunlight wasn’t to be. He drove his car beautifully on the snowy streets. As we came closer to the city of Tehran the streets had more traffic and whatever snow had fallen was gone due to the heat of the cars. On both sides of the street I could see small channels of clear water running down hill.

I exclaimed,” That is beautiful, Agaye Bahani”.

He smiled just barely and said, “Agaye OJ, Tehran is a very nice and beautiful city. It’ll grow on you.”

He went through some meandering streets. Traffic was on the wrong side of the street compared to India. In Iran they drove on the right as opposed to on the left in India. I had to make minor adjustments in my own mind before crossing streets or looking out for traffic. Not before too long, we came to a stop. We both came out of the car and Beh Bahani pointed to the door of the hotel. He said, “Agaye OJ, here we are. This will be your hotel, your temporary abode. Let’s go in. I would like you to settle down and freshen up.”

I said, “Very well Agaye Bahani! Thank you very much for the ride and for all your help. How and when do I come to the office?”

Bahani said, “Don’t worry, Agaye OJ. You please check in, go to your room and I am going to leave a note at the reception for you with instructions to reach the office. In the mean time please have these 10,000 rials for your expenses as an advance. All right, see you later.”

Moving goalpost

1

Out on the tarmac a plane just landed, I looked at it briefly. It was Circa 1991, my life was in turmoil, self derived turmoil though. I took a major decision of choosing a new tapestry for my incessant zeal of creating new edifice of intelligence and knowledge, an IT university. I was immersed in thoughts of the past successes I had had with some failures as well. Like they say; good comes with the bad. But I had never given up the aspirations for newer goals and race to attain the goals and the goalpost kept moving for newer heights and new achievements, the race was always on for the dark horse. Few months back I started getting the vibes to return to my roots. I knew not the root of this notion, however, the more I tried to run away from the call of my conscience, the stronger the urge became. There was something in me that was prodding me to share some of my highly technical knowledge with my mother country. She had given me a lot and now it was my turn to pay back. I had felt this yearning for quite some time and then it dawned on me I needed to go back where I belonged. For me the choice wasn’t difficult at all. I has seen poverty and lack of the usual conveniences of life from close quarters in my old forgotten home of yesteryears and I couldn’t take it any more. The luxuries I enjoyed in the west were antithesis of my upbringing and the thought that my folks back home could benefit from my contribution was like ‘why I didn’t see it before’. Déjà vu! It gave me the joy of my life. The foundation of a new race was laid!

I felt satisfied with all what went on in my life so far. I had already taken on the next challenge for which the race was on. The beauty of this particular event in my life was that I was not alone in it. I had my family with me on it wholeheartedly. I truly loved my wife and the son who was a tiny tot. He adored me.

And then, after a lot of vacillation and even animated discussions, I wouldn’t call them heated though, with Mark and also with my wife; I made up my mind. Yes! Now I should move back to my country and set up an IT university in Dehradun. This decision made me brisk and lively again. My old demeanor of pleasant disposition returned and I became a likable person again. Armed with this new persona, I tried my charm to persuade Raj Anand, one of my IT friends from San Jose, rather the Silicon Valley, to move back and help me set up this venture. I apprised him of my plan of moving back to Delhi. Although he didn’t agree initially, somehow I convinced him. In spite of the tall order of bidding good-bye to the city where I made my abode for umpteen years and where my wife bore my son, I was leaving it for good. Or wasn’t I? Only time would tell. I made it to the airport with my family and my good friend, Mark, a jolly good fellow, been always a Good Samaritan and helped us in our last moments.

I looked around past the windows at Sacramento airport and saw the planes landing, taxiing and taking off. It was the summer of 1991, the soaring temperature in Sacramento was maddening me. Temperature was unusually high, that too during May! I finished my drink that couldn’t quench my thirst. I looked at Mark nonchalantly and asked, “Do you want another Coke.” I didn’t mind another one. But Mark declined. Then I went up to my wife to enquire of her needs. She was busy with our son, Jay. Finally, I returned with cold drinks and continued with what I was doing before, chatting with mark and waiting for my flight.

There were some anxious moments for me waiting at the Sacramento airport. Waiting always put me a little on the edge. Not that the airport lacked in any of its conveniences or I had some thing against this airport or any thing of that sort. But a wait! It was like killing time for no apparent reason; these waiting hours were a total waste of time in one’s life, in my opinion. If it weren’t for this long international flight to New Delhi, I would have brought some of my files to take care of during this wait. I usually didn’t carry a laptop on long flights since it always created nuisance getting in and out of transit lounges and inordinate delays in security checks with extra weight hanging around my neck, I didn’t like the idea. It also hampered my plans of duty-free shopping since that would cause some more weight. I knew that at the transit lounge my wife would check out and take care of our pet dog we were taking to India with us. Consequently I would have to be with my son for his help and needs. Well, anyway, I kept looking hither and thither while keeping a watchful eye on little Jay. Mark kept on saying or rather mumbling words that I couldn’t even hear or I chose not to pay attention to. I knew what was on his mind to give me advice about. So I looked at the conveniences scattered around the departure lounge of the airport. It had a nice small coffee bar, a drink bar and a snack bar. It even had a small restaurant. It had the boarding gates with sky bridges of flexible and moveable corridors leading up to the entry doors of the planes. No one had to climb up or down a bus or a stair ladder in order to board a plane. One could carry the wheeled carryon without having to undo the wheel gismo. Well, I would say it was nice and small family oriented airport. I kind of liked it, my hometown airport! It wouldn’t be my hometown any more. But, the attachment would remain.

My baggage was already checked in. Only my carry-on pieces were at the chair next to my son. He was playing with his electronic toys and muttering exclamations of attack, run, pow-pow and bang-bang. I was looking at him as myself of yesteryears, yet that was my future – a dark horse indeed – in the race of life or the race of time, whichever way you might look at it. Will he come out ahead in this race, a winner? I had certain confidence in this notion. If I could do it, he could do it too. Life was full of paradoxes and of sublime joys and surprises. When you expected some thing the least it would pop, it came through at the blink of an eye, and it was all there in its full manifestation as a surprise. So I knew against all odds, whatever those odds might be, he would be able to shine in his life, and he would be able to spring that surprise - triumphing the mountain and reaching on top of it - I had hope or at least I desired that way.

My friend Mark couldn’t stay behind at home in spite of some pressing errands. He made it a point to come to the airport to bid us farewell. Friendship meant a lot to him as it did to me. He was sad. I could see his eyes were wet. The picture of his wet eyes expressed to me a thousand words in one go. He didn’t want me to leave the US and go. But I was as stubborn as a mule. Once I made up my mind no one could detract me from my decision, it could be either good or bad. I always stood by my words and did what I felt that I had to do. There had been times that I even got burnt as a result. But I faced the consequences too with brave resolve. I had grit and perseverance. I did not ignore Mark at all. He was a nice person. I could never offend someone just for my own wants. I would talk to him once he stopped mumbling and console him with something or the other. I wasn’t bored with his constant prodding. I tried my level best to give him convincing answers. I was very sad in my heart too since I was going to miss him a lot. We had shared things of mutual interest and were very close and used to visit each other more often than not. It was hard to get a good friend and now I would be gone and separated from him for I didn’t know how long.

I looked out of the huge glass window at the side of the concourse and saw the planes intently; if that was the word I was looking for. It brought back the memories of bygone years of my life, way back when I, the dark horse, had won the race beyond all expectations and flown off to Tehran on my maiden voyage from my native hometown of New Delhi. I was younger and full of zeal, vigor and enthusiasm. The memories were vivid, they flashed before my eyes panoramically as if they happened just yesterday and their charm was still lingering.

xxxx

‘Hey! OJ! You got to be fast and going. You might miss the train,’ Lewis yelled warning me. I had to go to Chandigarh for an interview for a job in Tehran. It was the October of 1974. Things weren’t so swell in India. The gas prices had gone through the roof. India’s economy was in the doldrums. I had no job in spite of being a product of IIT, a top-notch engineering school. My Chandigarh trip was an absolute make or break issue, I was confident I could land this job. But I got to be there for the interview to begin with. So I hurried with my briefcase.

xxxx

In front of the office in Chandigarh there was a huge crowd, as if there was going to be a riot or something. There were almost thousand people, young expectants, clamoring for the only single job offer.

My interview went mighty fine. My confidence exuded during my interview. I was right on top of the world. ‘Oh Wow!’ I exclaimed grinning from ear to ear as I was on the short list of finalists. I hugged Lewis and gave him the news with great gusto. He was happy for me so much so that he took me to a sumptuous Chinese dinner at Hong Kong Restaurant in GK.

Few weeks passed and I almost forgot about the short list and job interview and ‘Lo and behold’ I got an appointment letter from the Tehran Company. And rest as they say was history.

xxxx

As I looked back on my life, I felt satisfied it had come to such magnanimous fruition. Certainly I had made some tough decisions to achieve successes in spite of adversity, but I felt really elated as a result of all the achievements I made. And my single purpose focused dedication to my work had been necessary and at the end of it all, it proved wise and perfect. Let other men grow over their pitiful ‘destiny’, but really they didn’t want to make hard efforts and tough it out in the wild world. With the effortless mediocre mindset they were left behind in the race, and the dark horse moved ahead with meticulous approach and perseverance to win the race.

xxx

I couldn’t yet think of whether my next move was to be delightfully pleasant nor would it have the murkiness of my native ethos as usual. My little son had no inkling of what was in store for him, my friend was opposed to my leaving the US and running off to India and my wife, well that was another wild tale. These were the moments of great reflections that probably I couldn’t delve into at this point of time. I had discussed the pros and cons of moving at length with my friend Mark, and my wife, my confidante, too and pondered over this issue incessantly and I still couldn’t think of any difficulties ensuing with the major decision I had taken. There were no holes in my proposition as far as I was concerned.

So, anyway, I was still reflecting and was lost in my thoughts of the bygone days. I didn’t try to figure out the past –as said by the famous Jay Livingston and Ray Evans songwriting team in 1956 in their song- ‘que sera sera, whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see, que sera, sera..’ At one point of time we were all unknown entities, in a way being dark horses, ignorant whether we would win the race, but we always sought out tough targets to aim for; some thing swayed us to set out and take part in the race. And some of us leapt forward and made it, life was so wonderful and we knew ‘perseverance pays’. My young son wasn’t up to it yet; he was too young and innocent to know what this race I was talking about all the time. But I was confident he too would learn. I had hope. The thoughts and imaginations were going on at a fast pace. And then the sound of the airport communication person crackled though the speakers and broke my thought process; there was an announcement on the public address system that our flight was ready for boarding now.