Creative Nonfiction Romance Suspense

We all by some queer and cynical network of circumstances had been even totally unknown strangers happened to be jostled into each other in a bungalow of Kamlesh Patel at Pittsburgh. It happened just one year back when I had gone there to see my son Ashish along with his family there. My son as of course my son accepted his invitation without an iota of any objection. He also had a keen yearning to show us to his friends. It was a spectacular row of bungalows all so systematically synthesized at Higher Cleves in an elegant area so remarkable, a real Heaven on earth. It is next to impossible to have a place like this in India. It does not have any street dogs or wandering cows and buffaloes. The nights have no street lights as none is expected to disturb any living zones. Silence swept the dark nights and the mornings were full of Deer, rabbits and multi coloured birds of myriad variety. It was A scenario of live heaven on Earth

                Kamlesh Patel invited all the people who had by one or the other clicked of fate had been destined to land in Pittsburgh. They were all Indian people with not an iota of any Similarity in their professions, thoughts that were only full in wheat and rice if he happened to be grain merchant, or a mason who only knew how to make the walls, a guard of the Patel’s bungalow who only sat on the chair allocated to him. There was a cutlery shop owner or stocks and shares broker. Besides a person like me who had been a professor at P.G. level. It was like an assortment of crowd in a train who do not Know each other.

              We all sat together and looked into the faces of each Other knowing not how to interact and what to talk about. Should I ask a mason how do you join the bricks or could he speak or ask me who John Keats was? Could I ask a cutlery store owner about creams, hair lotions or a brassiere? Could anyone in the whole drowsy people have or could begin any Interesting conversation. No certainly not, they sat like wolves, Tigers or a giraffe a captured in an old fashioned zoo. There was not even zero possibility of meeting, speaking or discussing. We were like Air passengers of Air India or Sky Heavens or Jet ways. All as quiet and solemn like the statues or Egyptian mummy. The girls his daughter Janki and his sister Jyotsana unmarried came soon in with Thums up and Coca colas. They also bought Roses with pins to be attached to shirts and pull-overs. Most of us just sat there like statues and art paintings in the museum of Hyderabad. The two girls tried to make this stupid coordination as lively as far as possible. But sincerely speaking it was like a bundle of clubbed together logs Ready to just roll down jumbling in utter disorder. Was there any possibility of any assimilation? Kamlesh and Alka came soon after and invited us all to have a look at their small citadel.

                It had several bed-rooms, three dining rooms, five drawing rooms, suitcases, trouser belts, ladies purses, shoes and hundreds of paraphernalia to go along with. They had their private cinema hall, a gymnasium and also a swimming pool. Vraj lal Kanti Lal Patel and his wife Roopa, the Parents of Kamlesh and Jyotasana were also there lending us a Courteous smile. We were served with special Bhavnagri tea and this action fascinated all the invited people.

             Kamlesh had specially organized this get together to honour one of his special guests of honour from Junagadh who had come quite later afterwards. He was a multimillionaire  with high social connection. All stood before him in humble supplication but I did not act for that fellow to go out of the usual social norms. Kamlesh looked in my direction and frowned his nose in distaste. He desired a close touch with this Shanker lal Patel considering himself to be at parity with his high status. In quarter of an hour this big shot left his premises. He did not want us to understand that Kamlesh was his close friend. But Kamlesh got a slap yet he wasted not a moment to press heavy weight on his white lie. His bungalow was rather a magnificent citadel. The whole entourage only made us mad and I reflected how a contagious wild fire had expanded of exhibiting some one’s home but what for this parading is meant?

               All of them six members including his parents were standing in the vast portico to welcome him with fragrance of Indian perfumes and also a bouquet of flowers and a garland of Roses of the best qualities. They all rushed out and asking us to Follow him. All followed him but I kept almost away as I considered it a mere farcical drama of bluffing art. At one moment of time he happened to be close to me for few minutes. He dared not question me on my conduct with that big person. But I asked him, if he was an Indian American or American Indian. He gave a short back, nothing Indian Windian. We are nothing else but Americans by body and soul. You don’t belong to India? That is my dead history. We can send donations to destitute and poor starving people to show our kind disposition.

The high fie millionaire had left his large house and he had only one bottle of coke half inside left. When the cat is away, the mice will play or it was the genes that caught his mind and he spared no efforts to economies on something that was absolutely indispensable.

            It was his subconscious mind that there rushed a thought inside his mind that had been very poignant. Here were people who belonged to the labour class and they are merely blockheads like a herd of cattle or sheep. They were mostly buffoons and nincompoops.

              He was an owner of twenty-five stores all in Pittsburgh, Alabama and Maryland. He used to go for billiards and swimming having rented twenty-two stores and “it is only three that I need see myself. How luckiest person I am. My achievements are tremendous. Is there any one as big shot as I am? Not any others can surpass me.” Later he also reflected ‘” I enjoy sleeping with girls who work in my stores. Is anyone as daring as me?”

                   His life was perfectly set and his family had a full joyful life. But Time knocks the ego and pride of even those who are the most eminent person. His sexual alliance got leaked and there began a war at the domestic front. Alka turned her back and now domestic quarrels sprang up. He tried to seek her pardon but meanwhile Covid 19 attacked her broken heart and shortly after she expired suddenly.

                Shortly after a very twisting bad luck did not leave him in any good hopes. It was a twist for the worst. His daughter named Janki fell in love with a very handsome boy who was an American and also just twenty-three. He could not stop this marriage as it took place in a Protestant Church. This boy Mr William Johnson persuaded her to get her share out of her father’s property and Mr Kamlesh gave her five stores into the bargain. The couple settled themselves in Connecticut and the proceeds of five stores were transported there. Shortly after his son Mr Haresh Patel married one girl who was employed in one of his stores and he lost four stores. This married couple migrated to New-Jersey on an unknown reason.

                 His father Vrajlal Kantilal became bedridden and because such facilities in States were very costly, he went back to India where he stayed with his elder married daughter for two years. His money soon drained like stinking flow of faces down just lost in the drainage pump. What cannot be cured must be endured.

               Mr Shanker Lal Patel the millionaire of Junagadh cared a damn for Kamlesh now. He got double slaps from his daughter and also from his son and he was officially registered as Patel’s stigma. I can imagine about that Junagadh Icon smiling in his sleeves about him who also thought he was holding an honourable status. The Pastels have regard for only those Pastels who have family history of sanctity of being Pastels But nothing else. What happened to his gymnasium, the swimming pool and Cinema hall? Was there anyone there to enjoy these utilities? How futile became the dining halls? I went back into his self carved eulogies. “Of course I am an American Citizen.”His daughter and his son became Americans in the real sense.

           His daughter stays in Connecticut and his son in New-Jersy. His parents now stay in Bhavnagar in their bungalow at Air Port Road. His father is just a vegetable neither alive nor dead. Three care takers come every eight hours. He is living on a ventilator for six years till this date. All simply boils down to asserting how helpless a man can become. Palatail bungalows are nothing before Lord God’s benediction.

             I remember and I repeat it ‘” What I am? Yes of course an American, “He remained not a Patel and that shanker Lal Too deserted him.

              Janki liked the linking aroma of an American boy and she got infused with the fresh American touch. His son also got married to an American girl who was of the lowest types.  So that’s that. You must realize the sooner the better. God knows how this man in general is puffed up in shallow vanity and he forgets that Lord can excuse even pride provided a man forgets not his love for Him. 

July 02, 2021 12:02

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