ABC

Chapter 1: The Return

It was 2:45am, my turn finally came to reach the immigration counter, and I handed my passport to
the officer. "Travelling first time on this passport?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. I replied, "Yes sir,"
reaching for my old passport. It had been five long years since I last came back to India, and even my
Indian passport had been renewed in Houston and was blank.

But the officer stopped me in my tracks. "No need," he said, gesturing me to put my old passport
away. "Welcome home, son," he said, stamping my passport and letting me into my homeland. A
sense of relief washed over me as I realized that at least someone was here to welcome me back
home, even if it was just an immigration officer.

Exhausted and in a rush to catch my domestic transfer flight to Pune, I knew I had to hustle. The
airport in Delhi was huge, and I had to make up for lost time. After a 30-minute paced walk, I arrived
at my gate just in time before boarding closed. "Ah, so luck has not deserted me yet," I thought to
myself as I showed my boarding ticket and was let in.

The flight to Pune was a two-hour affair, and I used the time to catch up on some much-needed
sleep. But once I landed in the new city, I had to be on full alert. I had never visited or lived in Pune
before, and it had been five years since I last set foot on Indian soil. Delhi, on the other hand, was a
city I was familiar with, having grown up there. It was from Delhi that I flew out to the States to
pursue my Masters Degree in Mechanical Engineering.

After completing my degree in Florida, I moved to Texas for my amazing job at Oil Sector Worldwide
Inc. I was doing pretty well, a hotshot young engineer rising up the ranks and making decent money,
you know, the typical Indian in America living the Desi American Dream. So why did I come back to
India? Well, that's an interesting story.

I fell in love. I married an Indian origin American girl who I thought loved me back. At just 27, I had
thought I had completed the American Dream. But sadly, it was not meant to be. We divorced after
just two months of marriage, and my sanity, my confidence, and my Desi American Dream all came
crumbling down.

I was back in India, the broken American dream leading this somewhat of a broken man (what I
considered myself and possibly was too) to Pune where I had secured a job at WindMar. Stepping
out of the airport, I felt a rush of nostalgia hit me - or was it something else? The sound of a loud din
filled my ears, a puff of dust in the air and a tonne of people out and about, all in a rush to get
somewhere but somehow everybody seemed to be late. Yeah, I was back, back in my country to
start my life again.
I logged into my Uber account, and to my surprise, it showed me that I could book an Auto to get to
my new apartment. India had changed since I left, a lot. Happily, I decided to book an Auto instead
of a cab. Within minutes, my ride arrived, and I was off to my new place after loading my bags.

As the ride started, a nice Bollywood song was playing, the air hitting my face making me forget how
tired I was after flying for 28 hours. The Autowallah looked in his mirror and asked me “Pehli baar
Pune aaya hai?” (First time in Pune?). “Haan, Kaise pata?” (Yes, how did you know?) I asked. “Saab,
chehre pe dikh raha hai” (It’s visible on your face).

“Acha” (oh ok), I said, wondering if the sadness, perplexed look on my face was a dead giveaway.

“ Aap Pune se ho?” (Are you from Pune?), I asked him, trying to know more about him and probably
trying to stop him from inquiring more about me.

“Nahi saab, Main Satara se hai” (No sir, I’m from Satara) he said, smiling.

“Toh aap Pune main kya kar rahe ho”, (so, what are you doing in Pune?) I asked with a little mischief
evident in my tone.

“Saab, aaya toh main naukri k liye tha, par kya hai na ki idhar ishq ho gaya, toh main ruk gaya” (Sir, I
did come here to work, and I fell in love, so I stayed back), he said, smiling a mile wide now.

“Ladki se hua ki sheher se?” (Did you fall in love with a girl or with the city?), I asked, this time really
trying to pull his leg.

“Saab, ye Pune hai, woh kya hai ki Mumbai ki tarah sabb aake idhar basta nahi hai, idhar pyaar ho
jaata hai, pehle aaya, sheher mast laga, fir kuch mahine baad ladki se mila, aaj woh mera baiko hai”
(Sir, this is Pune, you see, people just go live in Mumbai, people fall in love in Pune, I first found the
city to be pretty amazing, then I met a girl, and today she is my wife), he said, very proudly.

I was really happy to hear that. As we pulled up close to my new apartment, I thought to myself,
Maybe moving to Pune would not be so bad. Maybe there is a reason why we are where we are,
maybe something amazing was on its way into my life. I got down, paid my fare and waved the
autowallah goodbye, I thought, Maybe, Just maybe, everything would be alright.