Ice cubes melting in liquid gold were losing their identity. The glass tumbler feeling that change sweated all over. The sweat drops trickled down in a single stream… Teja was looking with concentration at the tumbler. The trickling flow seemed to hypnotize him.

“Get for me too one – what you are drinking,” a husky murmur in my ears.

Shocked, Teja turned back and looked. An Indian girl! Her face was a little strange, appealing. Of course, she had eyes, nose, ears and mouth. But not one appeared to have a clear identity of its own.

“Shit, even with two scotches, have I lost my senses?” wondered Teja and rubbing his eyes looked again. Nothing wrong with his eyes. Her features were like that, exactly. All of a sudden, he recognized another feature about the girl. In the middle of her eyebrows there was a bindi mark. But it wasn’t exactly at the middle. It was towards one side. Involuntarily, he tried to set the mark right. Suddenly, he woke up. He turned to his left and lay down in his kingsize bed. His right hand was stretched across the bed as if it was trying to catch something. In the background central heating was heard in a low tone. The foot ball clock, displaying red numerals, on the night stand, was showing that it was two o’ clock. Teja remembered his dream.

Lying on his back, Teja placed his hands on his chest. A teetotaler like him, sitting alone in a bar and drinking the third scotch after polishing off two! What an impossible event!

That was not the real problem, though. That girl! That crooked bindi mark girl! Who was that girl? That too an Indian girl! Why did she come into the bar? He tried to recall her face. But he was not able to recall anything clearly.

Unable to get back his sleep, he switched on the lamp on the night stand. Pushing aside  the comforter, he got off from the bed and sitting in the Lazboy recliner, opened the laptop. He wanted to watch what would happen to Mitt Romney campaign. “Today is Sunday. No problem. Can sleep all through the night!” thought Teja.

*  *  *  *

March 9, 2008, Sunday: 2:00 AM

“Hello?”

“Amma!”

“Tell me, naanna, how are you?”

“I am OK. Telephoning during working time. Are you busy?”

“No problem. Tell me. Work isn’t more important than you.”

“OK. You must have known by now?”

 “About what? You mean about Bear Stearns?”

“Exactly/ You have been watching the news. You are also a Vice President of a bank. What is it that you don’t know? Now, Bear Stearns has slipped into the pages of history…”

"Yes, I was feeling the same way. What is your position? Are they retaining your division? Have JP Morgan guys made any offer?”

“No; I am laid off from today.”

“I see.”

“…..”

“How are you? How have you taken this?”

“Hm. Don’t know. Haven’t considered it yet.”

“Don’t worry. This is your first job; isn’t it? You will be a little worried.”

“Not a question of worry. I feel defeated.  But I haven’t been used to defeat!”

“Don’t feel that way. Bear Stearns is a small machine in the massive machinery of American economy. You are merely a small cog.”

“Whatever that may be, I feel uncomfortable.”

“Why don’t you come home for a while? You know how pleasant Michigan is around this time. After spending a few days, in a relaxed way, you can slowly think over matters.”

“Now? To Michigan in these circumstances?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Don’t know, amma! Don’t feel like going anywhere now? How can I face any body after losing my job?”

“Why do you speak like that, nanna? You can always come to me any time and in any circumstances. You know that very well.”

“Hm. I will think over. Let this situation settle a little.”

“OK. I am not forcing you to come over immediately. In my thirty years of banking service I have known many ups and downs, though not of this magnitude. If a job is gone, it is gone. That’s all! It is part of a journey. A stopover for a while. It’s over. Your job is only to move on.”  

“That is true, of course.”

“Be cool. You may speak to me whenever you feel like it. Take care of your health. OK?”

“OK, amma. I will catch up with you later.”

“OK, nanna. We shall talk again.”

*  *  *  *

March 9, 2008, Monday 2:00 AM

Teja walked along the fifth avenue from Midtown towards uptown. Traffic was moving in the opposite direction. Why this awesome hurry? Is he alone with plentiful leisure? Life down here runs restlessly treating minutes as dollars, money as breath and  making money as the only goal in life. Till a few hours back, he too was an integral part of that busy stream. But now? Suddenly, he has all the leisure in the world! A leisure he cannot really bear! A leisure he doesn’t know what he can do with!

A little nip in the air, reminding one that winter hasn’t passed by. How nice it is to walk fast under the warm sun peeping out of the curtain of clouds! Stopped at the red light. 82^nd street . Already walked forty blocks. How many miles do forty blocks make?

Metropolitan museum to the left. Though he had been staying in New York for over a couple of years, never went to the museum. ‘What else must I do now? Can spend a little time in the museum.’ Feeling hungry. Buying a hotdog from a roadside pushcart, he ate it standing there itself.

He bought a glass of iced tea, passed by the museum and entered the central park. Though it was Monday, as it was lunch time there were quite a good number of people on the walkways of the park. Walking along the walkway he came across, he reached a vacant bench, sat on it and started looking around.

All around noise of people hustling. A few were polishing off their lunch, noisily, talking to one another. A few others were leaving for their offices after finishing their lunch. A few were walking forward and backward. A few others were walking and running briskly for physical exercise. A little far away, the playful shouts of kids. And like background music for all these noises the roar of traffic along the fifth avenue. 

My bank has collapsed. But the world is cool. How can these guys be happy and carefree? Why are they so totally unconcerned? 

He sensed that someone sat beside him on the bench. He turned his face toward the person. Didn’t feel like talking to anybody. If the person tried to pick up a conversation, he decided to walk away.

The person who sat was a girl!

He could only notice the hair trimmed fashionably up to the shoulders. A dark-hued top over jeans and dazzling designs embroidered over the top.

How is it this girl is going around only in her shirt without a blouse or sweater, he wondered. Meanwhile, the girl raised her head and smiled pleasantly, as though keen on starting a conversation.

It is an Indian face, for sure!

Look, that bindi mark between her eyebrows! But it is a little crooked, a little off the middle. Involuntarily, he raised his right hand to correct the bindi.

The rough bench touched his fingers coarsely. He woke up and looked around. There was no girl!

The telephone in his coat pocket was ringing. Text message from Robert.

That we should meet at Murphys at six in the evening next day.

* * * * *

March 22, 2008, Tuesday, 7:15 PM

Murphys wa almost empty. Robert and Teja were sitting at a table in a corner. Both were silently sipping their glasses. It was the second martini for Robert. For Teja it was the first iced tea. All of a sudden, Robert banged the table loudly. Shocked, Teja raised his head and looked at his friend.  

“Screw Bear Stearns!… Screw Wall Street!...Screw the whole damn thing! I will move over to Iowa and start working on a farm!”

Teja looked as though his friend was off his balance.  

“Rob, you seem to have had a shock and are off the rocker! Cool, man!”

“No, Teja! I have made up my mind.”

“Only for this? If it is not Bear Stearns, there are a thousand other banks. It is not difficult to land on a job like this!”

“We may nor may not. That is not the issue. These subprimes, these defects, these clandestine deals, these massive lies ….Must move away from all this poison  for a few days!”

‘Oh, is it Stock Broker Robert Lupchonski talking like this?”

“Certainly! I am not saying that I will give up banking altogether. Break for a few days! What has happened is for our good. Feel like keeping off from all this crazy business for a few days and if I feel like it, I will come back.”

“A few days? How many days?”

“Don’t know! Maybe, a year or a couple of years!”

“What will you do those few days?”

“Something or the other! What pleases my heart! Look, for the present both of us have no problem with money. If we don’t play high stake poker, we can comfortably manage for a couple of years. We can go on bike ride around the country. We can go to Egypt and visit the pyramids. If I feel like it, I can drive the tractor in my dad’s farm. Actually, without doing any work, how nice it would be just to lie down in the hammock under the cool shade of a tree!”

“No doubt about it! You are certainly crazy!”

“…..”

“You know? When I spoke to my mom yesterday, she also said the same thing. Wanted me to go over Michigan for a few days.”

“Then? Look, what I said is correct! If we stay in New York and have no job, it is hell. And if we have job also, it is hell. Let us move on. By the way, does your mom too have a farm in Michigan ?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Indians don’t work on farms in America , you idiot. My mom is Vice President of  Comerica Bank.”

“What a pity!”

“I know. But my mom is cool! I was excited when Mitt Romney entered the fray of primaries. I wanted to volunteer for the campaign. Of course, we didn’t have time till now. And when I want to do it now, the guy has surrendered to McCain! Hm!”

“Hi, Teja! Tejashter! Tejuman! In which world are you living? This is Obama year! This is the time for Obama election! If have an iota of civic sense, you work for the Obama campaign.”

“Ha, ha, ha. If there was any doubt, it is cleared now. You are a certified screw loose! Of all people, support that socialist? Not in this life! But McCain is a little eccentric. He doesn’t stick to the policies of his party – especially, the economic policies! Whenever he feels like it, he votes with democrats. Though I am not keen on working for his campaign, how can I support Obama? No way!”

“ Yes Way , too. Hey, though I come from Iowa , I have no problem in supporting Obama. You are from Michigan , what is your problem? If there is anyone who can pull this country out of its present morass, it is only Obama.”

“Hey Rob! What is this? As though he is a New Messiah!”

“He is the Messiah! You better leave it. I forgot the real matter. It is the opportunity to wake up our sleepy romantic life! These days, all the girls are crazy about Obama. If we also work in Obama’s campaign, there will be girls and more girls!”

“……”

‘Why that crooked smile? Oh I got it? Among you Indians your parents arrange everything. Don’t tell me! By now your mother might have already fixed up a girl for you in Michigan !”

“No! No! Nothing like that! In the last couple of weeks, I have been having this dream four times. In those dreams a girl!”

“Is the figure OK?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t noticed it. But … look at this coincidence! She is an Indian girl!”

“What’s the problem, then? Look, I am telling you your future. Just remember. By the time you reach Michigan , your mom must have set up a doctor girl for you. Within a couple of weeks of your arrival there, engagement! And in three months, wedding!”     

“So, that is what you predict? Ok then you will be off to Iowa and I to Michigan . It can’t be helped.”

“Who knows? If the sweet heart set up for you has a Babylasian girl, send me a single text message and I will grow wings and I will also land in Michigan .”

March 25, Thursday, 3:20 PM

Teja was browsing in his laptop at the Starbucks on Big Beaver Road in Troy , Michigan . From another window on the laptop the Talk of the Nation program broadcast by Radio Michigan was reaching Teja’s ears through headphones. Neal Conan, the presenter, was discussing with political analysts the amazing victories scored by Obama at the primaries and the hidden agenda behind Hillary Clinton not conceding defeat.

It has been a week since Teja landed in Michigan . The routine has been OK. He has been  spending a couple of  hours in the morning either running along the prairie path in the woods nearby or riding the bike. Michigan during spring is really pleasant and wonderful. In the afternoons, spending time in coffee shops or public library. Only evenings have been scary. He hasn’t known what can be done. There are no friends. All the friends he went to school with are scattered all over. All of a sudden, how can he make new friends? True, mom is fine. She is not harassing me advising me to do this or that or haranguing about the loss of my job. She is leaving me to myself. But how long can I go on reading books? How long can I spend time watching movies? Doing what can I kill eighteen hours a day? It is OK for a week. Maybe, yet another week. But spending time like this isn’t alright for me. I must do something or the other. I must do something useful. What if I take up work as a volunteer somewhere, like mom suggested? It would have been nice if the primaries for republicans continued, like they did for democrats. But my political hero Mitt Romney has given up arms. At least, Robert could have been around. That guy, surprisingly, within a week of his arrival in Iowa , got himself immersed in  the farm work with his dad. Not even online for chatting.

It will be a good idea for me to work on a farm. It is not for money, though. Just to save me from crazy thoughts. Maybe, I can sleep as soon as I go to bed after a day of hard work. Have been having no wink of sleep these days. The moment I try to sleep, that crooked bindi girl flashes in my mind. As if what I already have doesn’t suffice, this crazy bother. She appeared in my dream first the night before I lost my job. There seems to be some link between this girl and the loss of my job. Shit, I am really going crazy. On account of the absence of .work, I have started believing all kinds of superstitions. Must do, I must do something.

* * * * *

June 13, 2008 Friday, 7:00 PM

Reclining in the leather sofa, Teja was watching TV in the mute mode. Dressing herself up in a silk saree,  Madhavi walked down the stairs and looked at her son. Unshaved for the last four days and dressed in an old T shirt, with sleeves frayed and  old basket ball shorts, Teja was sporting, unusual for him, beer belly! There was a touch of recklessness in the way he was lying in the sofa. “What does it matter, if people look at me?” appeared to be his attitude. A paleness in the eyes watching the TV.

No point in leaving Teja like this, thought Madhavi. She stood between Teja and the TV. Teja’s eyes noticed her presence, without any interest. Looking at the silk saree worn by her and the special makeup, his eyes brightened.

Striking the pose of models displaying sarees in TV ads, she asked dramatically, “How do I look?”

“You look fantastic, mom,” he complimented.

“Not bad for a fifty year old, Ha!” she said, smiling.

“Not bad for any age, mom. Actually, it is not not bad! It is super good! You look really beautiful.”

Though the question, why this makeup, was suppressed by his lips, it rose in his mind.

“Don’t worry. I am not going for dating! Today there is a fund-raiser for Obama. Local democrat heavy weights and a couple of senators are attending. It is being organized by Indians.”  

‘Wow, then it is great news! Since when has this political awareness seized our Indians?”  

“You know, Vani aunty? Her daughter Kamya… She is your age. When you were a kid , both of you used to dance at the shows put up by Telugu Association. Now, she is studying Law in Wayne state. Right from start she has been playing an active role in Obama campaign. Now, she is the Campaign Manager for the entire Metro Detroit. Only she prodded everybody and is leading this event.”  

“Vani? Kamya? Don’t remember any!”  

“It is alright! That is not important. Don’t you accompany your beautifully dressed mom as bodyguard?”  

“A bodyguard? For you?” Teja broke into laughter.  

Madhavi was pleased with it. She could rouse Teja out of his anemic listlessness.  

“You are able to make Comerica dance at the tip of a needle with your hand. Even the President is scared of you! You need a bodyguard?”  

‘OK! If it is not for my protection, at least to display how handsome my son is to others! Come along.”  

“Hm, it appears to be cool. But should a diehard republican like me attend a Obama fundraiser?” Teja spoke as though he was enacting Hamlet’s dilemma. Appearing unable to wait any longer and getting fed up, she said, “Oh, come on. Becoming squeamish to please, just to accompany me one evening! Go and get ready,” she said and pulling Teja out of the sofa and pushed him towards the staircase. Unwillingly, Teja went up and started shaving.

“Don’t dress in some crazy clothes. Put on formals, tuck and black tie!” Madhavi shouted from below.  

* * * *

June 13, 2008 Friday, 8:29 PM

Burton Manor was got up like the ball room in a grand five star hotel. Walls and pillars were painted in Democratic party colors. Ribbons in the colors of the American national flag were fluttering. In the space amid the dining tables tastefully arranged around five hundred people were chatting among themselves. Without any racial difference, all men were dressed in tuxedo and bow ties. A few Indian women were dressed attractively in sarees, while the other ladies looked fantastic in their native dress.

On the whole, most of those Indians who made it good in their respective professions and turned millionaires in the Oakland county were present.

As most of those people were either acquaintances or even friends, Madhavi got mingled with them pretty soon. Standing a little aside, Teja was watching the crowd, with his hands in his trouser pockets. He recognized Michigan senator Carl Levin from a distance. Though it was a little boring, looking at the excited crowd was interesting. He also guessed that it was a good opportunity to find out what the enemy was up to from their conversation. At that thought, he smiled to himself, as he was considering himself as a spy for the Republican party.

Meantime, Madhavi dragged Teja to the drinks counter, pulling at his shoulder. At the table, a tall girl was speaking something with a white girl mixing the drinks. As he looked at her from the rear, he could see that her dark hair, trimmed fashionably, was flowing below her shoulders. The girl was slim and tall. She put on a blue chiffon saree dazzling with multicolored embroidery. The blouse she wore was cut fashionably to match her figure.     

With a warm intimacy, Madhavi placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, from behind and said, “Kamu, I want you to meet somebody.”

“Hi, aunty!” Kamya said, planting a tender kiss on Madhavi’s cheeks. As she turned back, she noticed Teja.

“Kamu, this is my son Teja. Teja, this is Kamya!”

A bindi like a lightning between her eyebrows – crooked and a little off the middle!                          

Teja turned speechless. But his hands were itching to set the placing of the bindi right. 

* * * * *

June 21, Saturday, 10:00 AM

A Toyota Prius car stopped in a community of millionaires in Bloomfield Hills.

There were OBAMA 08 painted on the bumper and stickers, “Change We Can,” all over, the car.

A young man got out of the car. He put on a smart Polo shirt and well-pressed shorts. On the front of the shirt Obama button was pinned. There was a baseball cap with TEAM OBAMA embroidered. Checking the names in the list in his hands, he stopped near the entrance of a house and pressed the calling bell. A white person of about forty years opened the door and looked as though asking who the caller was. The young man flashed a winsome smile and said, “Hi, Excuse me for disturbing you. I am Teja. I knocked on your door today to campaign for Obama election. If you have no objection, please spare a few minutes of your precious time,” said the young man. 

Glossary:

Amma:  affectionate term to address one’s mother

Bindi: a mark made with saffron (kumkum) sported by Hindu women

Nanna: literally, father; affectionate way of addressing one’s son, especially by mother.