R’s Journey The Wounded Elephant A novel about India, its challenges and its treasures, its wounds and its generosity, its mysteries and its spirituality. Maya Radj Maya Radj – 2005 Contents Prologue 3 Despair and Hope in New Delhi Part 1 (Chapters 1 to 6) 4 Mist and Light in Varanasi Part 2 (Chapters 7 to 11) 38 Past and Present in Jaipur Part 3 (Chapters 12 to 15) 76 Fantasy and Grief in Mumbai Part 4 (Chapters 16 to 18) 102 Joy and Anger in Goa Part 5 (Chapters 19 to 20) 120 Heritage and Passion in Madurai Part 6 (Chapters 21 to 24) 133 Revelation in Bodhgaya Part 7 (Chapters 25 to 26) 161 A New Beginning in Varanasi Part 8 (Chapters 27 to 28) 182 Glossary 193 Maya Radj – 2005 PROLOGUE Climbing off the train in New Delhi, R recalled how his memorable journey had started three weeks ago in the same railway station. “But I am not exactly back to square one,” the young man mused. “Indeed, I have changed so much in the last three weeks.” His eyes swept the crowd as he walked towards the exit. The people waiting on the platform did not look very different from three weeks ago. However, they felt different. Now, he saw something else in them … through them. Pushing and shoving his way through the colorfully garbed and noisy crowd, his nostrils assailed by a wide range of fragrances and odors, R smiled as he realized how much his attitude had changed. Now, he felt content, calm and in control. By contrast, just three weeks ago, in the same station, he felt irritated by the clamor fuelled by hundreds of men, women and children chatting and shouting; nauseated by the competing smells; and exasperated by the long wait in line. His thoughts then wandered to his girlfriend Mohini. She was the first person he wished to meet. He wanted to talk to her about their cherished project … and about his transformation. He was no longer sure that he wanted to leave his country for America after this three-week journey through India—Bharat as he now preferred to call it. Bharat was his country’s real name, and that was just one of the many things that he had discovered about his country, about his culture, about his identity during this extraordinary voyage of discovery. However, Mohini had always been there for him, cheering him up during his long search for that first job that never came; a job that would have allowed their young love to blossom freely, unfettered by parental constraints. Month after month, she had sustained his spirit with her light talk and her cheerfulness. Encouraged by the success of friends and relatives who had successfully emigrated to the United States, they had nurtured a common, beautiful American dream. Moving there and finding a job, they thought, would allow them to escape the highly competitive Indian job market, where only those who had the right connections landed the best positions. Moving to America was initially a dreamy, far-fetched Plan B. Gradually, as R’s hopes of finding a good job in New Delhi dwindled, Plan B replaced Plan A. Then onwards, their desire to move to America, where the grass was greener—at least for those who had a green card like R’s brother Ashok—just kept growing and growing. So how would Mohini feel if he now told her that he was re-thinking his future … and consequently hers? What would she say? She might insist on pursuing their dream … and he would give in; or she might just accept that he was no longer the person she had last seen three weeks ago. He dismissed those thoughts, then smiled, savoring the new, better person he now was. His physical journey had brought him back full circle to New Delhi, but he now felt so different from the day he had started. He felt confident, not anxious; contented, not frustrated; proud of himself, not ashamed. Maya Radj – 2005 3 Part 1 Despair and Hope in New Delhi Maya Radj – 2005 4 CHAPTER 1 Three weeks earlier R was unquestionably a different person. It was a frustrated and depressed young man who trudged along the dusty streets of New Delhi, unable to find that golden first job that he needed so much. Facing unemployment in the city in which he grew up was tough. “After all, this is New Delhi, the nation’s capital, where teeming millions live … or rather survive,” he wondered. Six months ago, R earned his Bachelor of Commerce degree with high honors. Disappointingly, that had not led him to a job offer yet. Reflecting upon that made him sourer by the day. “Ashok was so much smarter,” he felt. Indeed, his elder brother had chosen Computer Science. Then, six years ago, his bachelor’s degree in hand, Mr. and Mrs. Sharma’s eldest son flew over to America on a scholarship. There, after completing his master’s degree, Ashok joined a Los Angeles company as a programmer. R took in a deep breath, trying to shake off his somber mood through a special pranayam1 exercise that his guru had taught him. He did not pay much attention to the color of the sky that morning, although he might have if it had been blue; but New Delhi’s sky was the same hazy, light tan color as always. As usual, dust and fumes seeped into his lungs at every breath. “Although it’s still so early, Delhi’s air is already laden with dust from the surrounding arid countryside, factory smoke and exhaust gases from thousands of antiquated motor vehicles,” he pondered. Later on, when all the cars and the overloaded buses and trucks would race or crawl along the capital’s roads, it would be much worse, though. “The worse polluters are those autoriskhas.” R hated those three-wheeled, two- passenger scooter-taxis. However, they were very popular with those who did not want to travel by bus but could not afford the luxury of the capital’s 1950s Ambassador cabs. Although it was not rush hour yet, thousands of vehicles already snaked their way through the streets of New Delhi, challenging pedestrians’ eardrums with their jazz concerto of horns and poorly maintained mufflers. “Those scooter riders believe that they can just thread through traffic and crowd alike,” R cursed as he narrowly avoided being hit by one such vehicle, driven by a harassed- looking dad taking his son to school. The plump little boy sat sandwiched between his parents, both white-collar workers from their attire. For a split second, R imagined himself and Mohini under those helmets, then shook his head in disbelief. “I would need that job first … and even then, Mohini would never travel on a scooter. That’s not her style. She would expect us to drive to work in a car; one of those boxy, subcompact Marutis at the very least.” Standing at the bus stop between an elderly man who occasionally spat out some saliva reddened by an early morning paan2, and a middle-aged woman draped in a red and green sari, R thought about the upcoming lunchtime meeting at his former university campus with Professor Vikram Varma. Varma had been his mentor during his first year on the Commerce course. His guidance and advice had been invaluable to the young man, who had then pursued his studies with increasing confidence, easily earning his degree. That day, R was on his way to meet his former professor with high hopes. Vikram Varma was not content with being a good teacher. A generous man, eager to spread happiness as well as knowledge, Varma tried his level best every year to help his students find good jobs by leveraging his contacts in industry. That year, some of R’s friends had already been whisked off the unemployment lists through his efforts. After six months of knocking on all kinds of doors, R was running out of patience and his confidence was on the decline. He therefore welcomed the Professor’s help. “Why don’t you just walk into one of those call-center recruitment offices?” his father once questioned indignantly. “It would be better than sitting at home and waiting. What kind of job are you expecting, anyway? Don’t you know that I started my career as an office cleaner?” 1 Yogic breathing techniques. 2 Chewing gum-equivalent, chewed to clean the mouth and teeth especially after meals taken outside the home; made with a mixture of spices with antiseptic properties, and wrapped in an aromatic leaf. Maya Radj – 2005 5 R had not replied; it was safer not to do so when his father started fuming like that. However, the last thing he wanted was to end up in a call-center. He knew that he would not be able to use what he had learnt at university; instead, he would have to learn skills that he did not care much about. Indeed, one late afternoon, R was walking Mohini back from university when they met Anupama. Mohini’s friend and neighbor had recently joined a large, overseas call-center. She was on her way to work, but she stopped for a quick chat, glancing nervously at her watch every ten seconds. R paid little attention to their conversation until the anxious-looking young woman started complaining about her job. “Initially I was so excited … their commercials were so appealing, Mo. They portrayed their company and the careers as being so ‘hip’, you know.” “So what’s wrong Anupama?” Mohini asked her teasingly.