Chakravarthy had been a part of the enterprising new generation of youngsters, fueled by the desire to succeed; and he had reached success, tasted its sweet fruit.
Chakku reached the United States of America in 1987. He was in his early 20s and willing to lead a destitute life. His tale of success is similar to those of the many thousands of others who immigrated to the USA- rapid advancement in career and lifestyle with little consideration for suffering.
Idlis became cereal, Rasam rice became Pizza, and Chakku the Indian became Chax the American. Love called in the form of a Punjabi woman, and Chax answered.
Chax married Twinkle at a Registrar’s office, with colleagues as witnesses. Both of them had no friends- their career permitted them to have only acquaintances. They didn’t think that was a sad thing- after all, they had themselves for everything.
For the first few years, Chax sent home some money to his parents, but saw no point in doing so after a few years, because they never called him, and he had no use for them anymore. And he was quite sure his smart brother would be earning a lot for the family; even if he wasn’t, what the hell. They could still milk some dowry money off his wedding.
So life rolled on, and the money piled up. Letters from the couple’s parents were first answered, and then they went unanswered, and finally, unopened.
One day, his brother Ranganathan was at the door. Chax hardly recognized him.
“Chakku, you’ve become so fat.” Things like this were what Chax hated. People from home had the tendency to state the obvious. Actually it wasn’t even his home anymore- it was a fragment of the distant past. Chax sighed.
“What do you want, Ranga?”
“Appa is dead.”
“I don’t care. Don’t come to me with the fragments of a lost past and claim any relation to me. I’m a different person now.”
“Come home, Chakku. Come see us at home. Home is what made you what you are today.”
“America is making me what I am today, not some remote village in Tamilnadu where people pee in the open and have no ambitions and aspirations in life. People who had ambitions already moved out.”
Ranga left without saying a word. He realized there was nothing he could do or say to bring his brother back; he was hooked to America.
The 9/11 terrorist attack on America proved that the country was not the safest place to be, and Chax lost Twinkle in the attack. She had been working inside when the terror struck. Police reported that she had died on the spot.
It was a lightning bolt to Chax’s heart. It struck him down, and he was shocked. America was the last place he had thought terrorists would attack. They wouldn’t have the balls, he had thought. But now he had lost his wife-his only friend in the country.
Time passed, but his grief did not pass. He decided to go back home at last; after many years. There was no one to console him in the USA. He flew to India, deciding to be there for a few weeks before returning to work.
At home in India, the people he had accused of being stupid because they were overly sentimental came to him and consoled him on his loss. They didn’t even know him, but they understood his loss, they said. He hadn’t even come home for his father’s death, and yet his mother said she understood that in today’s world, work was first because work was the present. A dead person is the past. Obviously, the present was more important than the past. Chax was flabbergasted. He didn’t know how to thank his mother for understanding. When he told her that, she laughed and said that she was his mother, and hence knew him inside out.
They showered genuine affection on him; his mother made him special Mysorepak dripping with ghee and payasam with roasted cashews. He forgot his grief. He drowned the grief in the flood of his family’s affection.
Soon, it was time to go. He packed his bags and the taxi drove him to the airport, which was a long way off. He had to go back to his work. He wasn’t one of those sentimental idiots who would come back home, compromising his job for family. Family he thought was typical toilet paper- You use when you need it, and then throw it away. Use and throw. But how much ever you throw you’ll need to use it again sometime in the future…
