- A Bitter Reality
As the dream of most parents, I had acquired a degree in Software Engineering and joined a company based in the USA, the land of the brave and opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was as if a dream had come true.
Here at last, I was in the place where I wanted to be. I decided I would be staying in this country for about five years, during which time I would have earned enough money to settle down in India.
My father was a government employee, and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one-bedroom flat. I wanted to do something more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as time passed. I used to call home and speak to my parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of burgers at McDonald's, pizzas, discos, and two years of watching the foreign exchange rate, getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down.
Finally, I decided to get married. I told my parents that I had only 10 days of holidays, and everything must be done within these 10 days. I got my ticket booked on the cheapest flight. I was jubilant and actually enjoyed shopping for gifts for all my friends back home. If I missed anyone, there would be talks. After reaching home, I spent one week going through all the photographs of girls. As the time was getting shorter, I was forced to select one candidate. My in-laws told me, to my surprise, that I would have to get married in 2-3 days, as I would not get any more holidays. After the marriage, it was time to return to the USA. After giving some money to my parents and telling the neighbors to look after them, we returned to the USA.
My wife enjoyed this country for about two months, and then she started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice a week, sometimes three times a week. Our savings started diminishing. After two more years, we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a girl, were gifted to us by the almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents, they asked me to come to India so that they could see their grandchildren. Every year I decided to go to India, but work and financial conditions prevented it.
Years went by, and visiting India was a distant dream. Then suddenly, one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried, but I couldn't get any holidays, and thus could not go to India. The next message I got was that my parents had passed away, and as there was no one to do the last rites, the society members had done whatever they could. I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grandchildren.
After a couple more years passed by, much to my children's dislike and my wife's joy, we returned to India to settle down. I started to look for a suitable property, but to my dismay, my savings were short, and the property prices had gone up during all these years. I had to return to the USA. My wife refused to come back with me, and my children refused to stay in India. My two children and I returned to the USA after promising my wife I would be back for good after two years.
Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American, and my son was happy living in the USA. I decided that I had enough and wound up everything and returned to India. I had just enough money to buy a decent two-bedroom flat in a well-developed locality. Now I am 60 years old, and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left me and gone to the holy abode.
Sometimes I wonder, was it all worth it? My father, even after staying in India, had a house to his name, and I too have the same, nothing more. I lost my parents and children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM.
Looking out from the window, I see a lot of children dancing. This darned cable TV has spoiled our new generation, and these children are losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional cards from my children asking if I am alright. Well, at least they remember me. Now perhaps after I die, it will be the neighbors again who will be performing my last rites. God bless them. But the question still remains, was all this worth it?
From India, Madras
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1As the dream of most parents, I had acquired a degree in Software Engineering and joined a company based in the USA, the land of the brave and opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was as if a dream had come true.
Here at last, I was in the place where I wanted to be. I decided I would be staying in this country for about five years, during which time I would have earned enough money to settle down in India.
My father was a government employee, and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one-bedroom flat. I wanted to do something more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as time passed. I used to call home and speak to my parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of burgers at McDonald's, pizzas, discos, and two years of watching the foreign exchange rate, getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down.
Finally, I decided to get married. I told my parents that I had only 10 days of holidays, and everything must be done within these 10 days. I got my ticket booked on the cheapest flight. I was jubilant and actually enjoyed shopping for gifts for all my friends back home. If I missed anyone, there would be talks. After reaching home, I spent one week going through all the photographs of girls. As the time was getting shorter, I was forced to select one candidate. My in-laws told me, to my surprise, that I would have to get married in 2-3 days, as I would not get any more holidays. After the marriage, it was time to return to the USA. After giving some money to my parents and telling the neighbors to look after them, we returned to the USA.
My wife enjoyed this country for about two months, and then she started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice a week, sometimes three times a week. Our savings started diminishing. After two more years, we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a girl, were gifted to us by the almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents, they asked me to come to India so that they could see their grandchildren. Every year I decided to go to India, but work and financial conditions prevented it.
Years went by, and visiting India was a distant dream. Then suddenly, one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried, but I couldn't get any holidays, and thus could not go to India. The next message I got was that my parents had passed away, and as there was no one to do the last rites, the society members had done whatever they could. I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grandchildren.
After a couple more years passed by, much to my children's dislike and my wife's joy, we returned to India to settle down. I started to look for a suitable property, but to my dismay, my savings were short, and the property prices had gone up during all these years. I had to return to the USA. My wife refused to come back with me, and my children refused to stay in India. My two children and I returned to the USA after promising my wife I would be back for good after two years.
Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American, and my son was happy living in the USA. I decided that I had enough and wound up everything and returned to India. I had just enough money to buy a decent two-bedroom flat in a well-developed locality. Now I am 60 years old, and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left me and gone to the holy abode.
Sometimes I wonder, was it all worth it? My father, even after staying in India, had a house to his name, and I too have the same, nothing more. I lost my parents and children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM.
Looking out from the window, I see a lot of children dancing. This darned cable TV has spoiled our new generation, and these children are losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional cards from my children asking if I am alright. Well, at least they remember me. Now perhaps after I die, it will be the neighbors again who will be performing my last rites. God bless them. But the question still remains, was all this worth it?
From India, Madras
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