thousand on new X-ray machines. Then there was malpractice insurance, liability insurance and the insurance for the equipment and office contents. In frightened moments he added his dental school loans that he was paying off at the rate of ten percent interest. Gary laughed at his fears and told him to be a man. In a few years he promised they would be earning so much he wouldn’t even notice his payments.
There was much comfort in the fact that he and Gary were a team, consisting of two dentists (themselves), one hygienist and one receptionist cum secretary. If only his parents could see him now. A respected member of society, with a Canadian as partner and best friend. A man of substance in the new world.
In the apartment upstairs, in a place that promised security and contentment, Sue became pregnant. She and Gary decided to do the conventional thing and get married.
Ananda was best man. He stood next to the groom in the church on Spring Garden Road, and drank in the solemnity of the occasion, the vast arrays of flowers, the pews filled with white Anglo Saxon Canadians, quiet, elegant, expectant and well-behaved. The sound of the organ filled the church, deep, moving, sonorous. It had to be the most wonderful instrument in the world.
To marry a white woman would be like marrying the country with your whole body. He wondered whether being Hindu would be a deterrent to a church wedding.
The bride appeared. She was clothed in a sheath-like gown that left her shoulders bare. A single strand of large white pearls ringed her neck, pearl drops dangled from her ears, white gauze flowed over her pulled back hair. Down the aisle she walked, drawing all eyes towards her.
The service began. Ananda’s attention wandered through its long recital, till ring, the priest indicated, and Gary turned to him. Soon the couple kissed, tenderly, lengthily, passionately. The audience sighed as the bride and groom trooped off to sign the register in the small side room.
1975. A state of Emergency is declared in India. The nation has had enough of democratic processes declares the Prime Minister, it is time for stronger medicine to cure the body politic.
Uncle and nephew are horrified at what is happening back home. Ananda writes anxious letters to his sister. Won’t she think of emigrating? He is not a citizen yet, but he is sure their uncle will sponsor Ramesh.
His sister writes scolding letters back. Ramesh is a trained bureaucrat. Unlike medicine or engineering, that is not a profession with transferable skills. Besides, the new dispensation is making use of his talents in Delhi. Western media with their obsession with democracy tended to blow things out of proportion. India did not need an opposition, India needed economic development, which a strong leadership enabled. The slogans he heard, like India was Indira, Indira was India, were coined to drive this into the heads of the masses. Ananda could come back now—the nation needed its doctors, with his foreign degree he would find that home was the land of opportunity.
What opportunity was his sister talking about? He was still in touch with his old college friends—they were all desperate to leave. Why should he go back?
Meanwhile pictures of Sanjay Gandhi appeared with great regularity in the weekly Statesman and Guardian that Dr Sharma passed on to the nephew. Dr Sharma was a great believer in news. And the news was all bad. The PM was re-writing the nation’s laws. Her party’s majority meant that she considered herself free to amend the constitution, to award her office more power and to imprison any dissenter. Parliament was harnessed to her will. States where the Congress did not have enough seats had their assemblies dissolved with President’s Rule imposed.
India had become a threatening place. A censored press, forced sterilizations, a factory that never took off, money laundering, kickbacks, torture, with more and more in jail. Each detail became a brick in the
There was much comfort in the fact that he and Gary were a team, consisting of two dentists (themselves), one hygienist and one receptionist cum secretary. If only his parents could see him now. A respected member of society, with a Canadian as partner and best friend. A man of substance in the new world.
In the apartment upstairs, in a place that promised security and contentment, Sue became pregnant. She and Gary decided to do the conventional thing and get married.
Ananda was best man. He stood next to the groom in the church on Spring Garden Road, and drank in the solemnity of the occasion, the vast arrays of flowers, the pews filled with white Anglo Saxon Canadians, quiet, elegant, expectant and well-behaved. The sound of the organ filled the church, deep, moving, sonorous. It had to be the most wonderful instrument in the world.
To marry a white woman would be like marrying the country with your whole body. He wondered whether being Hindu would be a deterrent to a church wedding.
The bride appeared. She was clothed in a sheath-like gown that left her shoulders bare. A single strand of large white pearls ringed her neck, pearl drops dangled from her ears, white gauze flowed over her pulled back hair. Down the aisle she walked, drawing all eyes towards her.
The service began. Ananda’s attention wandered through its long recital, till ring, the priest indicated, and Gary turned to him. Soon the couple kissed, tenderly, lengthily, passionately. The audience sighed as the bride and groom trooped off to sign the register in the small side room.
1975. A state of Emergency is declared in India. The nation has had enough of democratic processes declares the Prime Minister, it is time for stronger medicine to cure the body politic.
Uncle and nephew are horrified at what is happening back home. Ananda writes anxious letters to his sister. Won’t she think of emigrating? He is not a citizen yet, but he is sure their uncle will sponsor Ramesh.
His sister writes scolding letters back. Ramesh is a trained bureaucrat. Unlike medicine or engineering, that is not a profession with transferable skills. Besides, the new dispensation is making use of his talents in Delhi. Western media with their obsession with democracy tended to blow things out of proportion. India did not need an opposition, India needed economic development, which a strong leadership enabled. The slogans he heard, like India was Indira, Indira was India, were coined to drive this into the heads of the masses. Ananda could come back now—the nation needed its doctors, with his foreign degree he would find that home was the land of opportunity.
What opportunity was his sister talking about? He was still in touch with his old college friends—they were all desperate to leave. Why should he go back?
Meanwhile pictures of Sanjay Gandhi appeared with great regularity in the weekly Statesman and Guardian that Dr Sharma passed on to the nephew. Dr Sharma was a great believer in news. And the news was all bad. The PM was re-writing the nation’s laws. Her party’s majority meant that she considered herself free to amend the constitution, to award her office more power and to imprison any dissenter. Parliament was harnessed to her will. States where the Congress did not have enough seats had their assemblies dissolved with President’s Rule imposed.
India had become a threatening place. A censored press, forced sterilizations, a factory that never took off, money laundering, kickbacks, torture, with more and more in jail. Each detail became a brick in the
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