A short Story
This is a story of an NRI - Never Relaxing Indian.
" My father was a civil servant and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one bedroom flat. I wanted to do something better. So I first studied well, and made it competitively to the dream country for employment seekers, the US. I had a simple and single obsession: earn more and buy a larger house.
Once in US, after the initial euphoria, I started feeling lonely and sometimes homesick. What started as a once-a-week call, increased in frequency and I started yearning to hear my mother’s voice every alternate day. Cheap international phone cards helped me and many like me to stay in touch vicariously with home. Burgers, Pizzas, Discos, Beers, and other indulgences gave momentary thrills but there was always an undercurrent of missing something bigger.
Two years passed. Courtesy an ever weakening rupee, I was able to save something and started thinking about the need to get married. In one of those weaker moments, I told my mother to look for a girl of her choice. And also told my immediate manager about my marriage plans – he was happy and promptly sanctioned me two weeks’ leave. I relayed this to parents, asking them to complete the entire event within 10 days. I booked my tickets in the cheapest flight, shopped like a mad hungry first-timer and picked everything from the pavements and week-end sales counters. These shopped goods were gifts to near and dear.
Once I landed, I didn’t waste time in selecting a girl from the thirty odd photographs my mother and cousins showed. Everything happened swiftly and properly. Good in-laws, understanding and loving wife, ever caring parents and always helpful friends – it was two weeks of life closer heaven. The marriage got over. I had very little difficulty in getting a visa for my wife. Gave some money to my parents and gave some more secret money to my mother who would always humble me with tears in her eyes whether sad or happy. And me and my wife returned to what was sometimes a Utopia to me.
My wife was a carbon copy of me emotionally. She enjoyed the first 4 weeks as we enjoyed the rare luxury of being invited all evenings, showered with gifts and extolled on my great qualities. But we were soon confronted with the realities of life. She was finding it difficult to cope with loneliness and would expect me home early or take leave once in a way. Neither was possible. So she started feeling homesick. What was a boon to me in my initial days was soon becoming a bane – the calling card. She was calling home daily and almost twice a day. My savings started going down. But then I could not complain as she had her own emotions.
Years passed and we had two lovely kids, a boy and a girl. The children started growing. My parents were growing more and were much older by this time. Everytime we called home, my mother would want to see the children and insist we return for good or come for a long holiday. I would always plan for an elaborate stay in india but in the tussle between savings for the future and seeing parents, the former won hands down always. Years rolled. Children were now in schools and doing well. We would call our parents without fail regularly. And also follow it up with calls to neighbours to request them to take care of parents. Priorities were too many and visit to india was practically the last.
One day we received message that my parents were sick and somewhat serious. It was difficult at office to get leave at short notice. Children’s schooling, leave procedures, and a myriad other silly reasons dominated and we decided to rather trust in God and wait. Even before we realized what was happening, they both passed away in quick succession. The neighbours did the formalities and most of the grief was shared and distributed over mails and telephone calls. As if to remorse, i agreed when colleagues suggested prayer meetings. I was now a matured person and had learnt to accept life’s fortitudes with calm.
A few years later, we decided to return to india. It was no great logic which was superior to the one when the parents were ill. It was as momentary a decision as any other in my life. My wife was happy – she was sick and bored in a foreign land and longed to be with her folks. My children were not happy but had no alternative to following us. We packed off and returned for good.
Having landed in my motherland I managed to get a decent job. I started looking out for some property – a permanent home. India was far more expensive now, getting a decent two-bed room house was becoming difficult and to my frustration I was always falling short of the price I needed to pay. What followed was another impulsive decision – we decided to move back to US. My children were happy. My wife refused to come and considering many issues in a practical manner, i decided to move leaving her back. The deal was that i work for two years and return. I got a job in the same company I had worked before.
Time passed. My daughter married an American and my son, by virtue of his exposure to various aspects of life, decided to remain single. At this point, I thought to return again and live peacefully with my wife. I had saved more money and was in a position to afford that two-bedroom house.
Now I am 66 years old. I hardly go out and rarely speak to anyone. Once in a way I go out to spend some time in the nearby temple. My wife left me a few years ago. I get occasional cards from my children and grandchildren. They expect me to speak to them over multimedia – I neither have the enthusiasm to do that nor have the patience to show myself up in front of a small camera tucked to my home PC. Looking out from the window I see a lot of children dancing and playing in the company of mothers and grandmothers. I cry silently.
My father, even after staying in India all his life, had a decent house in his name and I just wanted to do slightly better. Nothing more. In the bargain, I lost lot more. All for that one extra bedroom
The question I ask myself is 'was all this worth it?"
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This is a translation of a short story that originally appeared in Tamil in a slightly different form
