Rajeev Desai came from a modest, lower-middle-class background, but that never kept him from dreaming. A true child of Mumbai, he knows that he alone is the one to make those lofty dreams come true. His ultimate goal is to move to the modern-day mecca for the financial industry, New York City. From his first days at school, Rajeev is an excellent student; on the day he receives a gold medal in economics from one of the top colleges in Mumbai, he knows that all of his young dreams are about to come true at last. Everything in his life is exactly as he had hoped: He has friends who are as precious as family. He's been accepted to grad school at some of the finest colleges in the world. His professors can't say enough about his academic achievements and potential. The world is his oyster. But then he is forced to learn one of his first lessons in finance: "Get the money . . . and you get to go to college" With his Father's death, his family's financial situation becomes shaky at best and Rajeev decides not to further burden his mother - the sole earning member in the family. So when a lucrative job opportunity presents itself in Kuwait, he's torn. Can he-an economics gold medalist-swallow his pride to drive a cab? Along the way, he'll receive some memorable lessons about friendship, family, professional relationships, and love. Now he must discover whether he and his dreams will survive on this strange, new path.

middle east calling

By srikanth ramaswamy

abbott press

Copyright © 2012 Srikanth Ramaswamy
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4582-0188-1

Chapter One

1st September 2010, The Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport – Mumbai

4:30 AM on a cold morning

The Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai is a beehive of nocturnal activity. Having said that, an eerie silence seemed to have enveloped waiting lounges 14 to 16 despite the fact that they were all teeming with passengers. Calm and peace with Mumbaiites around..well this seemed strange. Lounge 16 in particular seemed jam packed. Unlike the passengers in other waiting lounges, many of them here had put their bags down, spread a blanket on the floor and were catching up with sleep till it was time for their roll call. The sleeping passengers were more of the lot who couldn't afford nice beds and orthopaedic mattresses in their day today lives. They seemed content with the single blanket spread on the floor and the bare luxuries that the ground had to offer.

There were others (the more sophisticated lot!) who seemed to be busy glancing through pages of a magazine without much interest in its contents or busily keying away on their high end business phones. A majority of them in the latter category also seemed to be wearing gold jewellery with gusto with the men giving a decent competition to the ladies. Many of them wore latest edition swiss watches making them look more like the "Beau Monde" of Indian society.

All this was keenly being observed by one passenger seated in the adjacent lounge 15. He didn't seem a day older than 26. Well dressed and clean shaven, he was carrying a red Adidas bag which had his laptop and other bare minimal belongings. He carried a copy of Ayan Rand's "Fountain Head" in one hand but seemed to have put it off for in flight reading. The people in lounge 16 seemed to interest him more. His interest in their behaviour and mannerisms seemed to be a little more than a cursory one.

Suddenly, the eerie silence and calm was put to an end by a booming female voice which came over the Passenger Address System.

"Passengers travelling to Kuwait by KU301 are requested to proceed for Boarding from Gate number 16. Please keep your passports and boarding passes ready for inspection. Thank you!".

All of a sudden the place erupted into a Mumbaiish clamour. Getting onto a flight seemed nothing less than getting into a local train like it might leave any moment unannounced. All the passengers huddled into a queue and each one of them seemed to have a sense of purpose despite the grogginess in their eyes.

As the queue of passengers in Gate number 16 slowly started moving, the young lad in the adjacent lounge could not help but stare. His stare seemed to be taking him into the past, something that he could connect with. Deep inside, he could feel the one minded doggedness with which Indians moved abroad - In pursuit of wealth, happiness and a good life. But the road to achieving one's ambitions was never that straightforward. All of a sudden he could feel it all unfold right in front of his eyes – the toil, the hardships, the small joys of life and the big losses. A strange numbness seemed to envelop his mind. He was constantly asking himself "Is this the point from where there is no looking back?" The question played on and on, and suddenly he thought of his parents. The very thought brought back memories of his lower middle class life –the strictness at home, the emphasis on academic excellence, the love and affection his parents had showered on him as their only son and the loss of his father seven years ago. He had loved his father and had clung onto him like life itself and not letting go when he had died. The painful thought did the last bit of emotional draining and he felt tiny droplets trickle down his cheek onto his tee. He made no attempt to wipe his face clean.

He could feel his entire life staring at him and this whirlpool of emotions seemed to be relentlessly dragging him deeper. Just as he decided that he had enough and that prudence lay in engrossing himself in the "Fountain Head", a smartly dressed lady in a suit walked up to him. She seemed like an airline staff.

"Mr. Rajeev Desai?" she enquired, with a concerned look on her face.

"Yes" replied the young man.

"Sir, your flight to New York is ready to depart! We've almost made 5 announcements and were wondering where you were?"

"Uh uh! I am so sorry. I well eh.."

"Well no problem sir. Please let me have your boarding card and passport and I should be able to check you in"

"Thank you so much!" Rajeev muttered, putting up a sheepish smile which was then returned in kind.

Once inside the aircraft, Rajeev could see the crew work away efficiently. Most of the other passengers were already seated and it seemed like he was the last one to come on board. Two of the flight attendants smiled at him and said a "Hello" before helping him find his seat. He was immediately offered a wet tissue and a bottle of lemonade and was told not to hesitate to call them if he needed anything. Rajeev was impressed. Though this was one of the more expensive airlines, he had chosen this because the travel time was the shortest on this one. They would stop at Frankfurt and would then directly fly to JFK.

Boarding was completed and the initial safety announcements had begun and the aircraft started moving. Just when the announcements were over the flight had reached the runway, did a quick taxi and was airborne. Rajeev looked at his watch – Precisely 5:30 AM. He was now happy and content to be on the flight and the cabin crew and flight attendants had made him feel better. He had his lemonade and wiped his face clean with the wet wipe.

He felt fresh and no more drained but the thoughts that had led him to tears would take a long time to recede. They would keep coming to make him realize his true self and to keep him strongly rooted to the ground, to make him realize the value of money- how much every penny counted, to teach him how to keep himself together in the most adverse of situations and the foremost being how to spend every minute in the pursuit of his dreams and goals. These were lessons in life, by life, for life. The path he had taken to be on the flight to New York was no less than climbing a rugged cliff where he had bruised himself many a time but had gotten up every time, dusted himself and set off again until he had reached the top. His five year stint in Kuwait was something that he would never forget for the rest of his life.

Chapter Two

July 2005 – Around 9AM on a Saturday morning – Ganpat Rao Kadam Chawl in Worli

The months from June till September are called rainy season in Mumbai for no mean reason. It rains and rains and boy rains it does – By the day, by the noon, by the night, by the weekday, by the weekend - All through the three months. Mostly the rains are so heavy that one does not get to even hear the next person speak – literally!

But on the second floor of the chawl, Rajeev Desai was fast asleep oblivious to the roaring noise of the showers. Pretty typical of Mumbaiites. The rain does not bother them. Mumbai rains render rain coats, umbrellas and all other forms of prevention mechanisms useless and ensure that the whole city comes to a standstill for atleast one day of the rainy season every year. But for Mumbaiites who have made Mumbai their home – they can sleep without being disturbed by the loud rain, walk totally drenched on tracks if trains suddenly stopped midway, play football on slush filled muddy fields on weekends or go by the sea face and enjoy the crashing waves at Worli or Colaba. The rains bring a completely new colour and charm to the lives of Mumbaiites and the city of Mumbai every year.

Rajeev – still sound asleep from the late night he had put in the previous day. He was desperately trying to get funding for his Masters education in the US.

A BA in Economics from St. Xavier's College was no joke and he was considered the brightest in the class by all his peers. He was a scholarship student right from his 10th grade and someone who consistently scored a 90%+ all through his two consecutive years in college. The term "brightest" in the best graduate school in Mumbai was seldom thrown around lightly, but when it came to Rajeev Desai it seemed like a reasonable adjective to describe his academic credentials. The final year results were just round the corner and Rajeev had already started looking forward to breathing the fresh air of New York City, a place he wanted to be for his Masters.

Just then a loud voice of a lady came from the kitchen "Rajeev!" "O! Rajeev" "Get up now, it is 9 `o clock in the morning and you are still asleep?"

"I have finished all the cooking and I need to be getting to the temple now"

"If you wake up now, I can make a cup of tea and heat the poha for you"

Rajeev hated to wake up so early on a rainy weekend. Sleep was definitely his weakness. He weakly mumbled "Maa, I went to sleep at three today morning"

"Can you please leave me alone and let me get some sleep?"

He hadn't finished his last sentence and the loud ring of the door bell made him spring up from his bed and sit. Rajeev shouted "Maa don't bother, I'll get it!"

At the same time a female voice shouted "Aunty, Rajeev are you home?"

Rajeev immediately recognized the voice and opened the door.

"Hey Trips! Goodmorning. Hi"

"So Early?"

Trips – Tripti Natarajan a.k.a TIN – TIN - Rajeev's classmate at Xavier's and lived on the first floor of the same chawl. During her first year ragging at Xavier's, one of the more creative second year's had given her the name "TIN – TIN" and it stuck through all the three years. It was only Rajeev who called her Trips because he knew how much she hated the nick name. Even her family sometimes teasingly called her TIN –TIN.

Trips' father worked as a teller in State Bank and her mother was a housewife. She also had a younger brother Abhinav who was pursuing his first year mechanical engineering at VJTI. Trips' family were one of the oldest in the chawl and were very close to the Desai's.

"Yes, yesterday the gang decided on an early morning weekend meeting at your place and I got up earlier than usual and decided to go to Siddhi Vinayak and then dash down here" Trips said

"So where is the rest of the gang?"

"Any special plans for today?"

"I was thinking on catching up on sleep and then thought of lunch and after which I wanted to head off to my personality development class" Rajeev said.

One of Rajeev's prof's in college had got him a free admit into the Leadership and Personality Development programme of a well known corporate trainer.

"Personality development!" Trips said incredulously

"Yes, Prof. Menezes gave me a free admit and asked me to go" Rajeev replied coolly

"Oh!, ya I can understand his feelings for his best student"

"I hope he didn't give you marks in all those class tests for free as well" Trips added with a chuckle

"Well – well" Rajeev said and returned her chuckle with his hands folded.

Suddenly he shouted out to his mom - "Maa! Is something burning in the kitchen?"

"No, nothing at all and I don't get any smell!" Maa replied in a concerned voice.

"Well then ... its ok. I think the smell is coming from someone standing closeby who is burning green!" he added with his pursed lips breaking into a broad smile.

Trips caught hold of him and gave him a slap on the head with the wallet she was holding in her right hand.

She then called out to Rajeev's mom "Maa! This is prasad from Siddhi Vinayak"

"Oh thanks Tripti, I was about to leave for Babulnath"

Maa then looked at Rajeev in disgust and said "Look at this girl and look at you!"

She then turned to Trips "Why don't you try and put something into this fellow's head. He is only sleeping"

Trips smiled and said "The others are also coming here today aunty and then we thought we will go spend some time on the sea face and then go out somewhere to eat"

"So I don't have to make anything for the night?" Rajeev's mom asked.

"Hopefully not aunty but let the others come and we will let you know" Trips replied with a smile.

"Ok then, I will get going now. If I leave now then maybe I will make it back by 1' o clock" Maa announced.

"Ok Maa, byeee!" Rajeev said and waved to her.

The moment she stepped out, Trips said "Hey do you know?"

"What?" Rajeev asked.

"Final year results are going to be out this Monday. The gang want to get together to discuss something important. Yesterday we met briefly when we crossed paths and decided to have "Sirjee" over as well."

Sirjee – Sriram Ramachandran a.k.a Sirjee was one of Rajeev's closest friends. Starting from nursery till 12th grade, Rajeev and Sirjee were together – Same class, same section, same school, same likes and same dislikes. They ate together, played together and grew up together. Both of them had studied together for their IIT entrance exam as well but as fate would have it, Sirjee made it narrowly to the mechanical engineering department at IIT Bombay and Rajeev could only make it to IT BHU and ISM Dhanbad. Both of them had burned the midnight oil and had toiled hard all through their 11th and 12th grades. Rajeev being the one better at Math, constantly guided Sirjee on how the IIT math paper was to be approached. Sriram on the other hand considered Rajeev his guru and Rajeev considered Sriram his best friend who understood every feeling of his.

Both their families also had a lot in common. Rajeev's late father and Sriram's dad worked together in Mantralaya and it was Rajeev's dad who had advised Mr. Ramachandran to move to this place 20 years ago. While Sriram's dad was an officer with the administration section of the Mantralaya, Rajeev's dad was PA to the Chief Minister of Maharashtra. Since the house where Rajeev and his mom were currently living belonged to Rajeev's granddad, Rajeev's dad never wanted to vacate the place and go to some place better. To top it up Rajeev's parents had their offices close by. Rajeev's dad went to Mantralaya and his mom worked at Cama hospital as a nurse.

Sirjee now lived in the IIT Powai campus and came over every Friday night to spend time with his buddies in the chawl–his bum-chums from Xavier's. There was another secret to this weekend punctuality - He had hopelessly fallen for Trips and had a crush on her for nearly three years since the days he had invited him to the Xavier's freshers party and had let him dance with her.

Just as Trips and Rajeev were talking about what the gang had decided for the weekend, Rajeev could hear a pair of excited voices walk up the stairs of the chawl.

Rajeev got up from his chair and went up to open the door and as soon as he opened the door he could feel the sudden burst of cold air with tiny droplets of rain. The air smelt of a familiar perfume and Trips shouted from behind "Hey AB, How are you?"

"Danke, Gut!" the reply came.

Anu - Anusha Bannerji a.k.a AB was another Xavierite and was pursuing her BA in Literature. She had made friends with Rajeev and Trips during the fresher's party at Xavier's. AB lived a few blocks away from Rajeev's building and she too came from a lower middle class family. Her dad was a clerk in the Municipal Corporation but she had all the brains and the Savoir Faire to be in Xavier's. AB had a thing or two for languages - her command over English was impeccable and she was learning German at the Goethe institute as well. During all the three years at Xavier's she was the undisputed intercollege Debate Queen. The Welcome Address and Vote of Thanks were her babies all through her three year stint at Xavier's. Now that she too had a 90%+ score in two consecutive years, she was gunning for a Gold medal and to pursue a Masters followed by a PhD from Oxford. The word Oxford made AB go weak on her knees. Oh! And Anusha was Prof. Menezes' pet, though she was not an Economics student. He loved her confidence and her speeches during college day functions. Her speeches reminded him of his hay days in Oxford where he was a master debater. He had promised her a letter of recommendation and had also said that he would call and personally refer her to his colleagues at Oxford. Anu had almost swooned that day!

Sid walked up from behind and said "Hey champ! Wassup?" and shook Rajeev's hand.

Sid – Siddharth Varadkar a.k.a Sid was another chum from Xavier's and was majoring in Science. Sid was another Math whiz like Rajeev and was a part of the Math Olympiad team at school. Sid lived in the same building as AB, a block away from Rajeev's. Sid was gunning for CAT since the beginning of his 3rd year and wanted Rajeev to join him. But Rajeev had already given his GRE during his third year and had a stellar score and he wanted Sid to do the same because then he would be able to join his girlfriend AB for his post grad.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from middle east callingby srikanth ramaswamy Copyright © 2012 by Srikanth Ramaswamy. Excerpted by permission of abbott press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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