HOME, SWEET HOME

When Sachin returned from his morning jog, he found Sheela in the kitchen preparing their breakfast of potato-stuffed parathas, orange juice, and tea.

"Here is your tablet, dear."

"You're up early, Sheela."

"I heard you moving about and couldn't get back to sleep. I kept turning left and right and all sleep was lost. Honestly, Sachin, you had such nightmares that I had to wake you up. Do you remember?"

Remember. The word frightened Sachin, not for the first time.

They had begun again—the blank periods had returned, hours and even entire afternoons when he couldn't remember where he'd been. Only last night he'd climbed in the car at Eleven-Thirty to drive home from the restaurant in San Jose and hadn't arrived home until after one. Where had he been during the extra hour? The drive was only Thirty minutes.

At work earlier in the week, he had suddenly realized that he was wearing clothes he couldn't remember putting on.

The disturbing lapses had begun in India. Sachin, the only child of Savita Baa and Kantilal, was five. Sachin grew up in the urban atmosphere of crowded Ahmedabad, playing cricket, Saat Kukadi, hide-and-seek, and Gulli danda. Western type or English sports were expensive, and only available to grown-up kids during the daily school hours. Sachin's early teachers nevertheless recognized him to be a clever and intelligent boy.

When Kantilal was in his late forties and Sachin was fifteen, the family moved to Ahmedabad where Kantilal first worked as a deliveryman in a small textile mill, making just enough income to support the family of three. Kantilal hadn't completed his college education due to his father's disadvantaged financial status, but a few years after moving to Ahmedabad was able to find a position as an accounting clerk. His strong work habits, faithfulness and sincerity won him the trust of the owner of a small investment company, and he was promoted to a manager with responsibility for impressive sums of the clients' assets. Kantilal continued to be well-rewarded as his career advanced.

While in his first year of college, Kantilal was married to Savita, a girl from his childhood neighborhood, by arranged marriage. Kantilal was just seventeen and Savita was fifteen. Savita had received enough schooling to find work as a teacher in a private school, but spent much of her time raising Sachin. The youngsters in the neighborhood, affectionately referred to Savita as "Savita Baa." (In the Gujarati language, "Baa" means "mother.")

Kantilal had first been alarmed by Sachin's behavior when his son was five or six. Three times in the same week he had climbed in the car for the drive to school without wearing socks. On another morning Savita Baa had run after the car yelling, "Sachin! Are you not going to put on your tie today, my son?"

"Oh, Mom, I thought I had it on." With a nervous smile, Sachin turned to Kantilal and asked, "What is happening to me, Dad?"

The next week, Sachin's teacher, Mr. Pathak, phoned his father. "Hello, Mr. Dalal. Sachin didn't lock his box today. The lock and his keys were found lying on the floor with his Parker pen. Did he say anything about this? Does he remember leaving the box unlocked?"

Kantilal's heart sagged. "We are so sorry, Mr. Pathak. He didn't mention it, and he probably doesn't remember. We'll ask him to lock up before he leaves his desk. Thank you for advising us."

Kantilal was deeply concerned about what was happening to his son. Mr. Pathak's call made him realize how serious Sachin's problems had become. Formerly, the lapses had been rare, and seemed no more than youthful absent-mindedness.

Savita and Kantilal had a long discussion and decided to take Sachin to the doctor. Kantilal slept little for worrying, as he waited for dawn to break.

Kantilal called the doctor's office before it opened, then tried again later. The receptionist answered, "Dr. Krishnan's office, Gita speaking. May I help you?"

"Hello, this is Kantilal Dalal speaking—is Dr. Krishnan there?"

"Yes, Dr. Krishnan is in, but he's with a patient. May I help you? Or may I take a message?"

"I would like to bring my son Sachin to see the doctor about headaches and pain in his temples. When will he be available?"

"Could you come in at Ten-Thirty, or would Eleven be more convenient?"

"Eleven is fine."

Kantila took a quick shower and performed his daily worship, while Savita Baa prepared Sachin for the doctor's appointment. Together they shared a delicious breakfast of Methi pakoras, parathas, and tea. Kantilal made some quick business calls, glanced at the morning newspaper, and checked his mail. Keeping in mind that the drive to the doctor's in the morning traffic would take about a half-hour, they left at Ten.

"Hello Kantilal, what brings you here?" Dr. Krishnan ushered them into his office with his customary cheerfulness.

After checking Sachin's pulse, blood pressure, and temple pulses, Dr. Krishnan said he would need to take a biopsy from the left temple.

"We'll have the lab results in two days. Please call the day after tomorrow and check with the nurse. Depending on the results, she will tell you what the next step should be. If the biopsy doesn't identify the problem we may have to take a CT or MRI scan. I'll write prescriptions for a CT and MRI so you won't need to return here. They're in the same clinic, and it isn't far."

The biopsy failed to reveal the cause of Sachin's problem, and Doctor Krishnan advised them to contact Doctor Sinha for an MRI.

Sachin was frightened by the massive MRI machine with its hammering noises and narrow, claustrophobia-inducing tunnel. Kantilal remained by his son's side until his head and half of his body disappeared into the machine, and the nurse asked Kantilal to step into the waiting room.

The next day, Kantilal received a call from the doctor's receptionist. "Hello, Mr. Dalal, this is Dr. Krishnan's office—the doctor would like to meet with you and Sachin. When can you come?"

An appointment was set for four that afternoon, and Sachin and Kantilal entered Dr. Krishnan's office, this time with a sense of foreboding.

"Mr. Kantilal, Sachin clearly has memory loss. You will have noticed the progression of the problem through the years. I'm guessing you noticed him repeating actions and sentences, being forgetful and irritated, and having trouble performing everyday tasks."

"Yes, Savita and I noticed all of those symptoms."

Dr. Krishnan paused before speaking quietly. "It's a form of dementia—a disorder of the brain that affects the area that enables us to speak, think, reason, remember, and generally function. It might have happened as a result of brain damage, for example after being struck on the head.

"There are new surgical techniques that can alleviate or at least improve the symptoms. There's a highly regarded neurosurgeon here in Ahmedabad who can perform the surgery. I would strongly recommend you see Dr. Sushil. I will make an appointment for you, and I'll send him Sachin's file, including the MRI results. He will contact me if he needs further information."

Dr. Sushil decided that Sachin would need surgery in the area of his left temple, where the MRI had discovered a blood clot in a vein that carried blood to the affected brain region. The surgery would be completed in two phases. The first operation would remove the clot and repair the vein, and a second surgery, six months later, would evaluate the blood supply and, if necessary, create a bypass to restore blood flow to the damaged site.

Although the surgery was expensive, Kantilal and Savita were relieved to be able to help their son. In time, Sachin recovered and experienced fewer recurrences. The doctors warned that there was no guarantee of a permanent cure, and that Sachin would need to take daily medications.

Sachin completed his high school education in Ahmedabad and moved to Baroda where he studied at Kalaa-Bhavan, an engineering faculty of the M.S. University of Baroda, some sixty miles south of Ahmedabad.

Sachin was very active with extra curricular sports, regularly playing table-tennis, badminton, and billiards.

While playing badminton he got to know several young women students, including Sheela, Chandrika, Priya, and Chakshu, all of whom were studying architecture. Sachin completed his degree in electrical engineering in 1985.

In September of the same year, Sachin traveled to the U.S. on a student visa to complete his studies at the University of Santa Clara with an MBA. After graduating, he was hired by Sun Microsystems in San Jose, and with the company's sponsorship he was able to obtain his green card as a "permanent resident" of the U.S.

After receiving his green card, Sachin returned to India to find a bride. Through some common friends, a marriage interview was arranged between Sachin and Sheela, whom he had met in college.

At their meeting, Sachin was in good humor, teasing her by pretending to be surprised. "Hey Sheela, what are you doing here?" Sachin was secretly pleased to see her after such a long time.

"What are you doing here, Sachin?" she teased back. "I thought you were in California, being a big success. Will you be staying in India long? When do you plan to return?"

"I'm here for a short visit. I completed my MBA and have a nice job with Sun Microsystems."

Sachin continued, "Sheela, it's so strange—I was visiting my uncle's friend in Baroda, and they asked if I wanted to get married. Your dad knew my uncle's friend—his name is Maneklal Shah. He owns some shops by the railway station in the Sayajiganj district, so there must be some connection to our family through your dad's business.

"What does your dad do, by the way? Is he in some kind of business? I didn't know we would end up seeing each other this way, and through a common link. I thought you must be married and settled by now, with kids." Sachin laughed merrily.

"Come on! You ... you.... Sachin, slow down—don't go so fast. I thought the same way that you must have got married before you left for the US, or that you might have found a girl there. My father is an agent with Desai Bidi, and with his business connections he knows most of the merchants in the area. I started working for Bharat Construction after graduation - the owner of the construction company is my uncle's brother. I had no charming luck of going abroad like you did, Sachin."

Sachin smiled and then became thoughtful. After an awkward silence, he spoke shyly, "Anyway, Sheela, now that we are here, we know each other and don't need any introduction or to ask each other a lot of questions. Do you have any questions or objections? Because I don't. I think it's better this way to get married with someone we know, don't you?"

"Sachin, what more could I say? This is the best thing we could expect in our lives. I will tell my parents to go ahead, and you do likewise. Is it okay?"

A marriage was fixed, and the wedding took place two week's later, so that Sachin would have time to wrap up his business in India before returning to the U.S.

Several months later, Sheela joined Sachin in Milpitas, California, close to San Jose, where he had leased a new two-bedroom condominium for himself and his bride. The apartment was conveniently located near the principal freeways, enabling Sachin to drive to work in minutes. This meant that he could also meet Sheela frequently for a quick lunch on his noon break. Sachin would occasionally have to work late on projects with strict deadlines, and sometimes he would join friends for dinner after work and arrive home late.

Meanwhile, Sheela had made friends her own age in the Indian community, and they would meet often to watch Indian movies or documentaries on the Asian TV channels. The young married women were avid talkers, filling the lazy afternoons with gossip, and sharing tea, soda, fruit juice, and cocktail-sized samosas and kachoris—while laughing loud enough to annoy the neighbors.

Sachin received his U.S. citizenship in September 1993, though Sheela would have to wait several more years for her five-year green card to expire before she could apply for citizenship. Sachin took great pleasure in becoming an American citizen, because it meant that he could sponsor his parents to come and live with him and Sheela. Sachin had long since filed petitions for his parents' emigration, and he expected to be called soon for an official interview.

On the Fourth of July, America's independence day Sachin had a holiday from work and was relaxing at home when the phone rang. It was Deepak, a college buddy.

"Hello, Sachin, what are you two doing? Are you guys still sleeping? It seems you guys are awake but just lying in the bed tangled together. Now, that's enough of kissing. Leave some for tonight. You just finished with your morning bed breakfast lovemaking. I can see through my Tri-Lochan that you both are still lying in bed undressed with a bed sheet wrapped around. Oh my God!"

Sachin interrupted angrily, "Hey, you stupid son of a bitch! You better watch what you're saying."

Deepak replied, "Ha! Ha! Ha! I was just kidding, my friend. Hey, listen, Ronak, Shital, Sharad, Purvi, Trina and I are going to the park in Fremont for a picnic later on. May be Kushi and her boyfriend Dhoni will join us. We'll buy everything we need at Safeway and have a good time. Do you guys want to join us? It's about half-past eight now, and we should leave about noon so we can find a good spot with a grill and a picnic table. It's a beautiful park and not too far. We'll see lots of our countrymen there, as everyone has the day off."

Sachin asked Deepak to hold while he asked Sheela if she'd like to go. Sheela replied excitedly, "Why not? Let's go, it'll be fun."

Sachin said, "Yes, Deepak, we'll be ready. We'll meet you at the city hall parking lot on Calaveras Boulevard at about a quarter to Twelve. Is it okay?

Sachin and Sheela had a good time with their mutual friends at Lake Elizabeth Park, enjoying barbecued chicken kofta with fat saucy thighs, and juicy yellow corn roasted over the grill, as well as cold beer. The roasted corn was rubbed with fresh lemon and salt, with peppers sprinkled over the top, and the wonderful taste reminded everyone of their sweet home.

As the sun disappeared and darkness fell, Sachin and Sheela watched the Fourth of July fireworks display, a Holiday tradition in every American city and town, however small. But on the way home Sheela began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Finally she asked Sachin to stop the car so that she could vomit.

Sachin thought perhaps the food and hot weather had made Sheela ill. He stopped again at a mini-mart to buy some 7UP soda, which gave her some relief. But before they could leave the parking lot she threw up everything she had eaten and drunk during the day. Several more times over the next hour she threw up, and Sachin grew alarmed and drove her to the emergency room at Alexian Brothers Hospital on Jackson Avenue in San Jose.

At the hospital admissions desk, the clerk interviewed them. "What kind of insurance do you have, Mr. Dalal?" Sachin showed her his insurance card from the Sun Microsystems personnel department.

"Can you show me some ID, please?" Sachin pulled out his driver's license and showed it to the clerk.

"Is this the correct address, Mr Dalal?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sachin replied.

The clerk then asked Sheela, "What brings you here, Mrs. Dalal? What seems to be the problem?" In her soft-spoken, Indian-accented voice Sheela haltingly described the episodes of vomiting and nausea over the last two hours, and related what she had eaten and drunk at the picnic.

Once the registration was completed, the clerk asked them to wait in the lobby until they were called.

Within minutes a nurse appeared and asked them to follow her to the examination room. After taking Sheela's vital signs, she drew blood and told them to make themselves comfortable in the lobby, as it would be Twenty minutes to receive the results.

Twenty anxious minutes later, the nurse entered the room with a big smile.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Dalal!" she said cheerfully, then turned to Sheela and said, "You are pregnant, going into your second month!"