HOMECOMING

IN THE EARLY 1970S, FOR THOSE TRAVELLING FROM THE US TO India, the favored embarkation point was New York. In other words, almost every Indian living in various states across the US, whether they were from the west coast, down south or from the land-locked central states would make their way to JFK and take their flight home.

The flip side was that most of the immigrants from India, especially those from Kerala, initially settled around New York, New Jersey and Philadelphia. So it was natural to have a majority of flights to India, originating from New York.
Here, it makes sense to diverge a bit, with a little side story. In 1972, the United States opened up immigration to medical pro-fessionals from India. This led to a massive exodus of nurses, most of them of Kerala origin, but working in Bombay (now Mumbai) and Delhi.

They grabbed this opportunity to make a great life for their family and decided to migrate to the US. Many such nurses who crossed over were single and came alone, only to go back home and get married. Others were already married and they came to the US, with their families following in the ensuing months.

The number of such immigrants, which began witnessing an upward surge in the early 1970s, would climb manifold in the next two to three decades, leading to the mushrooning of the US dollar economy, mostly in the mid-Travancore region.
Fundamentally, this provided the roots for a more sturdy econ-omy compared to what was provided by the immigrants to the Middle East.

I had booked my flight from Seattle to New York by United Airlines and thereafter to Bombay (Mumbai) by Air India. The flight from Bombay to Cochin (Kochi) was booked by Indian Airlines. I was allowed to carry 20 kg or 44 pounds as luggage. I had only one check-in bag apart from a cabin bag.

It was when I arrived at JFK that I realized I had to go from domestic terminal to international by taking the bus. To be fair, my first trip to the US about three years ago was carried out with my mind in a haze and the entire trip had its share of problems. Therefore, my first trip home was quite bewildering as if it was my maiden international flight.

Adding insult to injury was when my ordeal began with a young man approaching me with the words, "I will help you." Before I could make up my mind and make a coherent reply, he had already started carrying my bag. It was only when he began to run with my bag through the crowd that I realized he was stealing my bag!

I lost no further time and began running after him. Thankfully I was able to catch up in a few strides. I tackled him from behind and wrenched my bag from his hand. As I started yelling at him that I was going to call the cops, he disappeared into the milling crowd. I tried to shrug off the ordeal, which was by no means an easy task as the incident had shaken me up.

There was no time to lose, as I was hard-pressed to reach JFK International at the earliest. So I boarded the bus to the international terminal of JK, where I boarded the Air India flight to Bombay without encountering any more escapades.
It was a 747 Boeing Jumbo jet which made stopovers in Europe and the Middle East before finally landing in Bombay. After clearing the long immigration line I proceeded to the domestic terminal. The Indian Airlines flight to Cochin was in a small Avro aircraft, with a carrying capacity of around 30 passengers.

The next bit of bad news was broken to me at the Indian Airlines counter when they told me that I was not confirmed on that flight. This ambivalence about how you got to board a flight was often left to the discretion of the airline staff - a common practice in the Indian aviation service those days.

Even though my ticket said "Ok" they claimed that I was only on standby. A dubious argument because there is no way on earth you can interpret an Ok ticket as standby!

What was on the cards was an implicit plea for me to offer a bribe and secure my flight. Because I saw other passengers do this. But I was quite firm in my stand that I was not going to succumb to their pressure tactics.

Sure it took some time, but it dawned on them that I was not going to pay any extra money and grudgingly told me to board the flight. I was surprised to see that at least three seats were empty.

When I arrived in Cochin, my sister Rajamma and her hus-band Sunny along with her children Mini and Sunu along with my youngest sister Leena were there to receive me. Leena is the youngest in the family, with a 15-year age difference with me.

Rajamma got married in 1970 just before my trip to the US. Sunny worked in the accounts division of Harrisons & Crosfield, a British company, which owned huge plantations of tea, rubber and coffee. Eventually, they got into management consultation and a whole range of other verticals and changed their name to Malayalam Plantation.

My younger brother Mathew, who was familiar to all as Mathu-kutty, was studying for his degree at Mar Thoma College where 1 did my pre-degree course. When my sister or I went to grade school there was no requirement of a minimum age.

Later, I would realize how lucky we were, especially while hearing of troubles others, including my wife, had to face merely on account of a minimum age of six being stipulated for anyone getting into grade one.

I started in second grade when I was only five years old and was thus able to clear class 10 as a 14-year-old. It was no different for my sister but that was not the case with Mathukutty as by then it became mandatory that a student had to be 6 years old while enrolling for class 1.

My other brother Thomas whom we call Mon was 9 years younger than me. He was brilliant in school and when he was in the eighth grade he appeared for a national scholarship and received the scholarship for the rest of his education.
He was a Math specialist. Math was natural to him. I could see his future in the US etched out in front of my eyes. The next day we took the train and went to my home town. My parents were thrilled to lay their eyes on me after a good three years. The feeling was mutual, though I barely had any spare time while struggling in the US to feel homesick. I had also missed my friends.

Soon I went to town to meet all of them. Most of them were still there in Kumbanad. Some had finished their graduate programs and were on the lookout for jobs.

In the morning hours, we all got together at Kuttappan's shop.

We called him MBT Kuttappan because he also worked as an agent for MBT Logistics, quite a well-known company. There were a few US returned students who would share their experiences by narrating stories while the rest listened in rapt attention.
Some of these young people themselves were married and had their wives working in the US. They too would listen with amuse-ment writ large on their faces. One of these was a young man whom they mischievously named "Voice of America".

My friends asked me to hear out his narrative without making my presence known. The purpose was they wanted to know from me how much truth was in the youngster's stories, to check whether he was spinning yarns. I wisely decided not to make any disparaging comments as I knew they would thereafter scrutinize whatever I said with the same spirit.

I had been away from home only three years but the one thing that stood out like a sore thumb, at least for me, was the numerous strikes called for by different groups of people those days. Some of those were by government employees not happy with their wages.
Then there was the student community that was often at logger-heads with private bus owners regarding bus fare hikes. Students normally paid only half of the normal fare.

Some disputes regarding a revision of this concession had led to the blocking of all buses. This meant the entire public transporta-tion came to a standstill. Nobody could go to work or school and college. Stores remained closed. The irony was that hardly anybody complained.

Everybody seemed to be in perfect harmony with this miserable situation. Even though I would have never complained three years ago, my years in the US had made me a changed man. I could not stand this attitude of the people.

When I had first left for the US, deep in the recesses of my mind I did nurture fond hopes of returning to my country. At that time, I planned to start an aeronautical college. I was eager to contribute and make a difference. It didn't take much more than this strike to make me wake up to the harsh reality that I was no longer keen to work towards making my dream a reality.

I simply cannot put down in words how disenchanted I was with what was happening in the country even though I was glad to see my family and friends. My fate was decided. I no longer wished to live my life in India. I decided then that if I wished to pursue my dreams, I simply had to return to the US at the earliest and get on with my life there.

After five weeks I packed up and returned to my adopted country. During that time there were a lot of marriage proposals that came my way but I was not ready to tie the knot. First of all, I had only turned 24 which was a bit too early to start a family. I could afford to wait a couple of more years.

Thankfully, my parents fully supported my decision to remain a bachelor and told everyone not to pile pressure on me. I remem-ber my father telling one of my aunts, "He will marry when he is ready." They did not care where and when I married from as long I was happy.
There is an interesting anecdote about the one time they thought I was rushing into a marriage. It was soon after I landed in the US.
At the Community College, when the time came to register for school I found myself short of the required funds. I approached the Registrar Dr James and opened up about my problem. Heempathized with my plight and granted me an extension without any penalty. So when a friend of mine came from India I told my parents that I wanted a 22-carat gold ring.

As I did not tell them what my intention was, my parents thought I was going to marry someone from the US. They never questioned me but decided to send a set of two rings - "his and hers". It was only then that I disclosed that the gold ring was to be given as a token of my appreciation to Dr. James.

They were quite open with their thought process regarding my future. I wanted to wait till I was at least 26 before starting a family. Besides, there were many things I wanted to achieve before settling down I had barely finished school and started earning money. I had plans to continue my studies. I believed that I was going to find a suitable match with God's help, but not in a hurry.
While going to India, I had asked for two weeks' vacation and one week's leave without pay from my employer. Instead, I had been away for five weeks without calling or notifying. In the US, any such failure to notify your employer was another way of saying that you are quitting your job. That is sufficient grounds for termination.

When I returned to the US by mid-February I called my boss Ron and told him that I was back in town. To my great relief, he did not lose his temper but quietly asked me, "So, you are coming to work tomorrow". I quickly affirmed and said, "Yes, I am". I was glad that I did not lose my job. At another level, I had managed to remain a bachelor despite a five-week US-returned trip to my native town!

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