My ten-day tour of Europe was a thrill. After landing in a new city I would exchange dollars for the local currency and get info for accommodation at B&Bs, youth hostels, or the YMCA. People traveled much less in those days and it was not necessary to book rooms in advance. Then I would take the sightseeing tours. I got a firsthand taste of the European culture. The well-maintained churches, monuments, and museums inspired a sense of awe and admiration. They were all different, but all reflected the tremendous impact of Christianity in every aspect of their environment and life. The tulip market in Alsmeer, near Amsterdam; the Tivoli Gardens in the home town of Hans Christian Anderson, Copenhagen; the Eifel Tower in Paris; and the palace gardens in Vienna were all exciting to see. It was a deeply emotional experience and I burst into tears when I saw the sculpture, Pietà by Michelangelo, in St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City.
I reached New Delhi on August 23rd 1963 and was emotionally choked when I saw my parents and my sister Laitha at the airport to welcome me. They were living in the Government Quarters — a spacious well-furnished house with gardens int he front and back yards. I had a restful day and got over my jet lag shortly. During breakfast the next morning I gave my parents an overall but short account of my experiences in America and assured them that I had not picked up the bad habits of smoking, drinking, and chasing girls. My mother proudly played my favorite long-playing records on the radiogram installed by my friend Goswami. My father said that he had applied for getting a car. In those days in India, a car was the symbol of well-to-do folks and not a necessity. There were only two models available: the Ambassador made by Hindustan Automobiles, and a small Fiat. Applicants had to wait in line, sometime for months, to get the quota.
A week later my steel-engineer brother Cheenu joined us from Rourkela. Two weeks later my sisters Muthulakshmi and Subbulakshmi arrived with their husbands and children. This was the first family reunion after five years, and it was a very warm and welcoming homecoming. We went to a photographic studio for a family group photo.
First Row, sitting (left to right):
Muthulakshmi (my sister), Usha (her daughter), Lalitha (my sister), my father, my mother,
Subbulakshmi (my sister), Sridhar (Muthulakshmi’s son, sitting on the floor)
Second Row, standing (left to right):
G.S. Subramaniam (Muthulakshmi’s husband), Srinivasan (my brother), Pattabi Raman (me),
Chidambaram (Subbuakshmi’s husband, holding their infant son Ravi)
My parents brought up the subject of marriage. I said I was agreeable provided I can meet and speak to the girl alone or in company and get to know more about her. I also want her to get to know me, who am I, and my life aspirations. I thought that this was a very reasonable request. There was no immediate response, but slowly they confided that no family of our sub-culture would agree with my condition. I suggested that they may contact the girl’s parents and get their reaction to such a meeting because perceptions have changed. There was a big silence, and no further discussion about marriage during the rest of my stay.
I was able to procure my immigrant visa to Canada from the Canadian Embassy in New Delhi just by showing them the letter from the Ontario Cancer Institute in Toronto. I went to the University of Delhi, my alma mater, and also met my friend Goswami of Phillips and other old friends of mine in Delhi.
Before leaving India on October 1st, I made a trip to Calcutta and met with the Director of the Bose Institute, who had given me the generous travel grant to go to the US. I told him that I have come with the intention of repaying the monies I got from the Institute. He made a very surprising response, saying that I may keep the money as he found me to be a responsible citizen. I thanked him heartily and offered the Institute the opportunity to buy any equipment or chemical that is not available in India in exchange for his generosity, which he gladly accepted. But no such request came in the following years. I also visited the lab I worked in for four years and found that nothing had changed.
Coming back to India after three years showed me the stark differences between the Western culture and India. There was no change in the poor conditions. Cities, particularly Calcutta, had become more populated and dirtier. I became more conscious of, and appalled by, the way the educated and wealthy treated the poor and the servants, though I lived in that environment for 30 years.
On my way back from India I stopped in Singapore, Hong Kong, and Tokyo spending two days in each. At the Singapore airport, I was greeted warmly by Dr. Natarajan and had lunch with his family at his home, which was artistically decorated. He had four charming daughters. Then the whole family took me for a sightseeing and shopping tour of Singapore. It was very welcoming to see three different cultures (Chinese, Malay, and Indian) all living peacefully. Here I saw how Indians, who have emigrated out of India, are taking leadership roles in building a progressive, disciplined, and wonderfully clean community. It was here that Natarajan introduced me to the famous Japanese Noritake porcelain dinnerware and suggested that I should get a set while I am in Tokyo. I was window shopping for a suit, but Dr. Natarajan advised me to get a suit custom made in Hong Kong as it would be cheaper and tailored well. He gave me the name of a trustworthy garment store there.
Hong Kong being a duty-free port was a shopper’s paradise and one could bargain even in the big department stores. I went to the garment store recommended by Dr. Natarajan and had my custom-made suit just twenty-four hours after the tailor had taken measurements. The tailoring was super and the price affordable. I also bought three shirts, a house coat, socks, and a few sets of underwear from a garment factory. They sold these at half price before they embossed the brand names or designer labels. I also picked up a beautifully designed wall clock, a pair of black shoes, and a leather suitcase to replace the one I bought in Calcutta.
In Tokyo I stayed in a cute little Japanese-style guest house, immaculately furnished with low chairs and floor mattress and decorated in the authentic Japanese way. I was awed with admiration for their manicured Japanese gardens and spotless shrines. The immaculate cleanliness of the city and the discipline with which they handled the crowds were beyond my imagination. While travelling on the bullet train I recalled the pitiful conditions in which I travelled with my family from Nagpur to Jabalpur in 1943. Tokyo was the most expensive city in the world. In the Indian restaurant a vegetarian meal of a piece of chapatti (an Indian bread) and a plate of curried lentils ala carte came to about $15, a huge sum those days when a hamburger was thirty cents at McDonalds in the US. I was fortunate that Dr. Natarajan of Singapore had given me tips as to where I should eat and stay. I bought an attractive Noritake dining set for eight which was already packed in a very compact box, fit for air travel. My visit to Mount Fujiyama was serene and relaxing.
On Oct 7th I landed in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu and rented a car to see the sights including Pearl Harbor. While I was looking down on the beauty of the beaches from a hilltop, I suddenly remembered that the book of Hidden Words, presented to me by Mrs. Brooks in Buffalo, was in my briefcase. In an impulse I rushed to my car to get that book. I opened it and read this verse addressing each one of us: “Noble I made thee, wherewith dost thou abase thyself?” I found this to be a very soothing message as I enjoyed the beautiful sight.
I flew back to Washington D.C. from Hawaii on Oct 10th to pick up my car from the Chari family. They thanked me immensely for loaning them the car for the two months while I traveled the world. They said that there was a problem with the transmission, but they had it fixed and the car was now in excellent shape. Indeed it was, and I enjoyed driving my car back to Buffalo. There I stayed with the Chakrabortys for two days during which I re-packed my belongings in a trailer and said goodbye to Professor Bardos and other friends.