---------------------------------------------------------------------
I wanted to leave the office at least by 9:00 pm, but the updates on the resource plan were still pending. Even after receiving the plan from Onsite, I knew, I would have to spend an hour minimum to re-generate that million dollar report to send it to the client. Cursing one of the bad Fridays of year 2009, I finally got off to start my Hyundai Getz at 10:00 pm. The tired security chaps at the Gate-6 were making an attempt to extract some entertainment from their routine chat. Outside was still as energetic as 6 pm with all the company buses from the Electronic city making their way towards the Hosur road. After covering 9 kms of Nice road, now it's time for the "Not a nice road" stretch.. This is one stretch where I unwillingly abuse my car every time I pass. My poor 1 and half year old Getz moans every time the biggest pothole of the Universe hits her bumper. My car isn't just an unfortunate automobile, every vehicle passing this 'Not a nice road' stretch has to undergo the same harassment. Trucks loading tons of raw materials for the construction of countless apartments, even help successfully widening the diameter of these penalizing potholes. Flies happily resting on the dark Gottigere lake on my left was witnessing the long queue on a narrow 7 ft. road restlessly fighting to get onto the Bannerghatta road.. By keeping the car windows airtight, I continuously try keeping my allergies away from taking the control over me..
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Just a few years ago, I used to enjoy the daily ride to my office from the long Germantown Road stretch, onto I-40 West towards Memphis downtown.. After passing the Danny Thomas Blvd exit, 3rd street, 2nd street, and then left onto 1A exit, the Main street, I passed the gorgeous Mississippi river on my right for one last time in Oct 2006. My six long pleasing years of beautiful Riverside drive to the office is simply unforgettable. I could still recall the happy faces of those Main street trolley visitors wearing T-shirts and shorts, holding dunkin donuts and bagles, taking the downtown ride to the Beale Street and Sun studio on Union Avenue where Elvis Presley cut his first hit track ‘That’s all right, Mama’. The security guy, Mike never ever failed to wish anyone at AutoZone in his routine. At the reception, Frank punctually greeted with his 'Good morning..' I was entering the glass building in the Front street for the last time.. I didn't have to do much on this day except meeting a few of my business users, my American and Desi colleague friends, leads, Managers.. I could hear my long time team mate and friend, Mike Walker, grumbling in his cube as usual, "Vishwesh.... Should’a been rich, man!!" after failing to hit the ‘Power ball’ lottery. I also knew I will miss his company and his deer hunting experiences for sure. After returning my id card to the curiously looking Frank, I hurried to the parking garage at lobby. My last drive on Toyota corolla from office to the Woodchase apartment on I-40 East towards Nashville at 75 mph was indeed a memorable one. Our last 3 days in the US at Subbarao's residence passed just with an eye blink. Our friends Dinesh/Bharathi, Srinidhi/Saroj and Subbu/Uma who had bought new houses in Cordova, Bartlett and Collierville respectively just months ago had offered us to stay at their place before we left the country. Most of my friends who had landed the land of opportunity in Y2000 along with me had applied for the Green card buying big bungalows, were already US citizens in making. I had always stayed away from the much tempting stages of green card - Labor, I-485, EAD etc. Our long association with the Kannada association was not so easy to get detached. In fact, I carried a special pride for successfully holding the Taranga Kannada Sangha of Memphis fort as Cultural Secretary for many years, whenever there was a crack. Once in 2004, for the renowned poet Dr. N.S.Lakshmi Narayana Bhatta’s visit, the Sangha President Subbarao and I had driven to a 5 hour long drive to St. Louis, Missouri returning the same night to bring him back to Memphis for his next day's seminar at our place. We did this with so much of motive to keep the Sangha flag very high.
I had met Prabhakar Parikh, a Memphian resident for over 40 years, within first 3 months of my visit to Memphis in 2000. In my six years stay, I would have visited his Elmhurst Road residence not less than 100 times. My Hindustani classical music practice always took the stimuli, not just with his Harmonium accompaniment, but for his chaste and unconditional love and affection that he offered us. Rohini aunty and Prabhakar Uncle had attempted extremely hard to convince us not from leaving Memphis.. But I was quite firm and was not open to any options. Many of my Telugu based colleagues had advised to apply for the green card to always keep the doors open.
My bonding with the India Association of Memphis was also quite deep rooted. I had to interact with various Presidents of IAM, Mrs. Wagh, Anupam Lahiri, Sandeep, Tracy Haldar for conducting special programs. My "Vande mataram - Revisited" for Republic day, 2002 in St. Francis auditorium, "Swadinta - Indian Independence", during Republic day 2004 were awarded with a standing ovation. The Indian and American National Anthems that I specially arranged and conducted for the INDIA-FEST program were being repeatedly played in the home of blues.
My involvement in the Indian Cultural Center and Temple mainly attribute to the music workshops and concerts I conducted. Our new age devotional music also had marked its debut in the same conventional hall, after the release of our 2nd multi lingual album "Resurgence". Our posters for promoting the CD's were being glued in some of the Indian groceries in Collierville and Cordova. Dr.Achar, Dr.Ashok Rao, Dr.Bellur, Dr. Duggirala, Dr.Shivram, Dr. Sidhu, Dr.Takhur, Dr. Goorha, Dr. Jallepalli, Lakshman and Chitra, John, Shobha aunty, Nalini aunty, Bhrughu and Meera aunty, Nayana Acharya, Anantha and Vani Prasad, Anand/Deepika, Prakash/Nandini, Sushma/Ravi, Yogesh Vaze, Ajit kulkarni, Shekhar Tulshibhagwale, Dr. Kapil Shukla, Partha da, my colleague friends, my apartment mates, my relatives and many others had supported through the various stages of our stay. Just a day before leaving the country, we had met Lakshman and John Oommen for the last time at John's residence in Collierville, leaving our UB Behringer recording mixer. Reluctantly we had to dispose some of our studio equipments including the Roland speakers, and the 33 year old sacred Veena. Ashwini embraced her for the last time in Hunstville just a month before we bid adieu with hard feelings after the concert in the Jagannatha Temple, Alabama. She was in her guilt filled tears on our drive back to Memphis as she was leaving behind her father's treasure in an orphanage. We had just finished giving online podcast 'Awaaz Anjaane' interview in Piya and Deb's -http://www.podioindia.com/html/aa2006november.html just days before leaving US. I had no choice but to reject, the requests from the Kannada koota of North Carolina and Madison, WI to perform for their 2006 Rajyotsava and Deepavali functions. I couldn’t even join the AKKA celebrations in Maryland, Virginia when my senior in the college and Cartoonist friend, Janardhan Swamy from San Jose invited us, as we were about to begin the final destination. Bindu from Washington DC e-mailed, "Why are you going back? Eno.. work nalli enadru problem ideya?" Few others had shared their miserable "Return to India" experiences and luckily with multiple choices in hand, returned and settled back happily ever after in the States. I myself had witnessed Seenu and Sudha Rao making several attempts where Seenu could never adjust to the Indian working environment. "Sir.. Raatri ella call itbiDtAre and we have to plan our schedules based on these people and it's just disgusting!!".. Ashwini had gracefully accepted the courageous decision by simply following me along with our one year old baby doll Arabhi along with her baby stroller without uttering a word.
Many of our friends tried calling us on the day we left. By then, I had already disconnected my T-mobile service. In spite of having a knee replacement surgery, Bhrughu Uncle still offered help carrying one of our 11 baggages to the Memphis International airport. He said, he would feel good even he carries a small bag pack. Milind Ganoo and Deepak Joshi of Marathi Mandal, Dinesh, Subbu, Srinidhi and Anand, Bhrughu uncle and Prabhakar uncle accompanied us to the Airport on Sunday morning of Oct 2006. I then remembered all the memorable trips to the Vegas, Florida, NY and California, and all those gayest moments at various Indian associations, before the flight from Memphis took off to Minneapolis.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
We reached Bangalore a day later than expected due to the courtesy of the flight delay followed by the ill-treatment by the Amsterdam KLM flight agents. After passing thru the torture created by our Immigration and customs gentlemen, we could finally view my anxious Parents, brother in law, Ramesh chikkappa and family, my friend Jayateerth waiting in the Bangalore HAL Airport lounge early am. Our first day in India re-started just days before the burst of 2006 Diwali crackers. My father, (67) clearly appeared much older than I expected at a closer look. His latest MRI scan report that was just out had revealed a destructive compression in the C4-C5 area of the spinal cord vertebrae. Couple of visits to the well established Neuro physicians, Neuro surgeons and hospitals only suggested the much needed surgery of the spine. As per the various opinions and study, we left for a hospital in Whitefield, taking an auto rikshaw early in the morning from our residence near Arekere Mico layout bustop. That was indeed my first commute to the Whitefield via Outer ring round, which didn't exist during my stay here last century. After the successful return, the multiple rounds of discussion we had resulted in trying out for an alternate to the surgery due to his much concerned health conditions. A week treatment at an Ayurvedic retreat just a few miles away from my place was the first attempt to rejuvenate his dead nerves without a much success. He returned home with hardly any improvement in the overall nervous system. Some of our family friends wanted us to try out the next phase of treatment at a Ayurvedic center in Coimbatore.
I still had not finalized my job till then. Job consultants from Naukri.com whoever called, piqued me, how many resources reported to me in my previous assignment in the US, while the fact was that, for the last 4 and ½ years of my experience at AutoZone as an SME, I hardly had to work anytime, post 5 pm. Since most of my old pals were now residents of US or UK, I felt I truly missed them back here. Thanks to my old colleague friends, I was able to join my good old company back without much hassles, who didn't ask the much irking question, "How many people work under you"... However, I soon found the culture to be extremely different as a Contractor working at Offshore than as an employee. My working hours started quite early in the morning, dropping Ashwini in J.P.Nagar Ring road near Kadirenahalli cross for her college, till late in the evening after the Onsite communication. I started working on the weekends as well to support the beautifully termed "Customer delight" principles at any cost and justify the white collared salaries. However, it appeared as if I returned here only to work four times more for one fourth of my previous pay to make mockery of myself.. Meanwhile, with in a month or so, the dust particles of Bangalore were able to detect me as a true NRI returning India and I started coughing.. We had worries of Arabhi getting adjusted to the conditions, but never suspected my own health would be in stake at this allergy prone atmosphere. Doses of Salbumatol Sulphate prescribed didn't reduce any congestion in my throat. Within few days, both of my nostrils stopped working. Whenever I was able to breathe, it was just the ruthless Carbon monoxide from the dusty Bannerghatta Road. But I needed to move on.. So, went for the driving classes just to unlearn the traffic discipline that I had learnt in the US. Yes, absolutely don't stop at the signal or yield, never maintain the lane system, you always have the ‘right of way’, never stop honking and keep moving... Well.. he taught me many other things which I could slowly adapt after buying a car. Even in the closed car, my throat could easily sense the dust and annoy me enough to produce that bad cough every few seconds. The cough resulted in the dripping of flem feeding back to throat creating another round of irritation to re-initiate cough making it a complete cycle. It took me a few months to forget that I was singing once. For the first few months, I still used to get dreams of me driving on the long Germantown Road stretch and taking west onto the Farmington road to hit Poplar Ave for our weekly groceries in Walmart and Target.. Often I had the nightmare of missing flights, forget carrying air tickets, loosing Social Security number, failure of performances for the Kannada Sangha programs etc… and then suddenly wake up from the bed coughing soon to realize that I'm in the real world, after hearing the non stop dog barks with a mosquito bite and that Airtel jingle ringtone when our neighbor took his car in/out.. I no longer had the luxury of getting up and straight away going for a shower.. Instead it's a bit lengthy process now.. had to make sure if there's sufficient water in the sump so it fills the Sintex tank and close the tank valve to switch on the geyser before taking shower, if there was no power cut.
On the other side, my father’s the spinal cord was being continuously subjected to the wear and tear; the treatment at the Coimbatore for an alternate to the surgery couldn't have been further delayed. Little over a 5 weeks stay of Kati vasthi and Greeva vasthi therapies at the Ayurvedic center in Tamilnadu hardly did any miracle to our despair. We found there many visitors from the West frequently making trips to this center to get the overhaul of their body. I also inquired about my continuous struggle with the allergic problems I faced. So, my Ayurvedic medicine experimentation commenced after my visit to Coimbatore. 4-5 months passed since I started suffering from the cold and cough allergies, and throat infections. The newly introduced bitter choornas and kashayas didn't do much, but just spoil my taste buds. I continued to cough and was unable to prevent post nasal dripping. I was already exhausted explaining these symptoms to new doctor every other week. The symptoms could arrive from any corner, any form.. sometimes thru a feverish feeling.. followed by high temperature, or thru sore in the throat and irritation, sometimes thru running nose.. From whatever the form it starts, the end result was just the same. I had also tried taking Homeopathic Arsenic or Sulpher globules 30 minutes before and after food, quitting coffee still without any relief. I couldn't take up any of the music programs as my musician life was totally eclipsed by the monstrous problems. I had not even opened my YAMAHA PSR-2100 that I brought from US after heavily paying the custom duty and taxes. It was probably after 6-8 months that I could connect the DELL desktop for the first time that was bought in 2003 while building the HOME STUDIO. My friends from the US started inquiring for my progress in music.. "Hey, were you guys able to compose for any new albums?", "Did you start performing in TV?", "How is your new life, work?" etc etc.. I had no answers to any of these questions.. One of my friends from New Jersey, who had visited Bangalore wanted to take tips from me on my new avatar as they were planning to return to India. I spoke straight from my Arteries and veins.. "Satish, I don't know where to start, where to put patches.. My body has never been able to adjust to this allergic world, my work is as hectic as ever, I'm total blank on my father's health, my music is completely out of scene, people don't recognize me anymore as a musician and I feel like a refugee in my own place.. My visits to ENT specialists, Ayurvedic and Homeopathic experts failed bringing my health back.. In one of the team meetings, when I couldn’t even speak, I had made fun of myself stating that if I don’t clear my throat every 2 minutes, it would be archived into backup tape like Mainframe datasets and my team laughed at my joke.. But I could only cough.. I've no life without music. I don't know the contacts for contributing my cartoons either, as the entire newspaper team is changed. I no longer was a source of item news for the newspapers they realized we're back for good. The moment I revealed our return to India, I could clearly observe the submissive reaction even over the phone. The theory is quite natural and simple. Well, You now inhale the same air, drink the same Cauvery water as rest of us, drive on the same potholes, bumpy roads and speed breakers, as we all do.. How are you different then?. How true was R.K.Laxman's "Waghle ke duniya" episode. I have lost, Satish…" Satish wrote everything in his blog ‘Antaranga’, http://antaranga.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post_17.html about my true sobbing story. My cousin meanwhile strongly suggested me consult a Pulmonologist (yes,, even I heard this term for the first time then) in Rajajinagar for the allergic ailments, bringing me another ray of hope, which I planned to make after my father’s surgery.---------------------------------------------------------------------
My father continued to suffer and without finding any other alternative, we finally took a bold step to get him operated for a major spine surgery in Aug 2007. We weren't very much comfortable as his prolonged hypertension, Diabetes and old age only added as catalyst to our fear. Our friends and relatives also had given us enough scares from all the corners to keep him away from Surgery. My father has lived most of his live without his parents.. Working for 14-15+ hours a day in a Hotel for 40 years, he provided me education, made me an engineer when he himself couldn't study beyond 12th. He wouldn't know the ‘Sa re ga’ of music, but sent me to the music class, took me to the singing competitions on his Luna, made me a successful musician. He probably never knew what a cartoon was, until I started drawing cartoons. However he constantly supplied me R.K Laxman's "You said it" series and many other raw materials made me a Cartoonist,, well... the least I had to do for myself is just becoming a human being. After chanting the Gayatri Mantras, Purusha suktas and Dwadasha stotras, and performing Puja to those black pebble saligramas that my father worshipped for years, I left for the Hospital early in the morning, listening to Ustad Rashid Khan’s rendition of Raag, Lalit Bhatiyar on my way.
He was taken inside the Operation theatre after talking to my second sister in Saudi Arabia over phone. The Joy of giving back standing next to the operation theatre can never be compared to the fun I had in Disney land theme park rides or the night life at Vegas casinos. After I landed Memphis for the first time in 2000, I remember sending $1000 to my mother asking her to buy as many Sarees she wanted… Now I'm sitting next to her who was worried about her husband's present/future condition. What would she want now? Sarees or my presence?? At her tender age of 19, my elder sister was born. She had given me birth at 25, when probably the current generation youth still be enjoying their lives dating, drinking, partying...etc. At that time, she had a huge challenge ahead of raising up 3 kids of different age groups, along with shadowing her husband in his day to day work. What future did she think for herself? She only cared about our future. That was around 32 years ago when we were living in a very old and scary Bhimsen Rao’s house near Manappa doddi, Bellary before constructing in Satyanarayana pete.
While sitting in the waiting lounge during the 6-8 hours long surgery, with her bag stuffed for a week, I could detect her deeply sunken eyes conveying that she has come a very long way thus far.. There were many similar buried eyes in the room with same sort of expression, carrying deep thoughts and hard feelings passing on the same message. I just thought for a while, what would she be thinking now had I not returned back to India to give her a supporting hand. "Where is my boy that I have given life 32 years ago? I sacrificed my entire life just for raising them.. When he was bit by a deadly poisonous scorpion, did he ask me to take him to the Ghausia hospital? Did he ask me to enroll him to an English medium school when I myself can hardly understand English? Did he ask to send him to the music lessons or Science Tuition or admission to the engineering college? Did he ask me to prepare his favorite Idli/kadabu and sambar during his semester holiday trips? During his return to the hostel after holidays, I secretly used to give him Rs.50 - 100 from my side that I had deservedly earned.. No..No..he didn't ask us anything.. When we did everything for our own pleasure, how can we ask for his help now??? Didn't we enjoy when he used to bring bunch of prizes home? Didn't we take pride in broadcasting that our son and daughter in law were residing in the US...? His songs, CD's, awards, recognition etc.. After all, what have I achieved in the end? I don't know how to talk to an auto guy and tell him to take me to the hospital.. I don't remember my own phone number.. I can't operate the mobile phone, I don't know how to even receive calls.., I need assistance to use the elevator, I never went alone anywhere till now.. Was that my mistake? Soon after his 12th grade, he left for Engineering, returned after 4 years and soon left for Bangalore; within 3 years, he even left the country.. Well, this is probably how the story of our life is written to end…". She had bent her head supporting her gloomy face with the arms. She was quite reluctant to even consume a cup of coffee that I offered. I looked at her eyes again.. I wasn't sure what was she thinking, but I proudly told myself, "I didn't give you a chance to think that way, ma…This is your time to redeem your mileage.. I clearly remember your every sacrifice, care and support.. I also realize that I can never match your sacrifice to that of mine".. Up the TV screen in the waiting room, Dravid was quite batting sensibly in the Natwest England Vs India 2007 series before he resigned from the captaincy. I continued to gaze at the waiting room reception as well as the TV screen every few seconds for updates. I was coughing horribly, trying to clear my troubled throat and discharge any flem. A few minutes later, my sorry mother who was already in tears, looked at me and said, '…Sorry Vishu, unnecessarily you are going thru all of this for our sake.. You would have had a wonderful and successful life back there. I couldn't even stop when you wanted to return to India.. I can’t see you guys suffering here. Do you get visa to go back?..." I was not in a position to react anything.. Just queried myself,"…Is there a God above mother?"....(To be continued...)
