Off to Paris
Sainik Nagar, Village Barbadia, Barasat, 7:00 AM, 10 December 1999
The winter morning air in Barasat carried a crispness that hinted at the chill of December. Still, it was nothing Paresh Ghosal couldn’t handle in his usual office attire—a neatly pressed shirt and trousers, a light jacket thrown over his shoulder. It was 7:00 AM, and the sun had already crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields he walked through on his way to the bus stand near the Lokenath Temple.
He moved quickly, his polished shoes crunching against the dirt path that cut through the fields, familiar with every twist and turn. The air was filled with the earthy scent of freshly harvested crops, mingling with the distant smoke of wood fires from morning kitchens. It was a scene he had known for years, but today, there was a restlessness in his step, a sense that something new was on the horizon.
Just a few minutes away, the bus stand bustled with early morning commuters. Paresh boarded the local bus that would take him to Colony More, where he would catch the Chartered Bus for the daily ride to Camac Street in Calcutta. As the bus rolled through Barasat’s quieter lanes, passing small shops and houses just waking up, he settled into his seat, mentally preparing for the day ahead.
It took about 20 minutes to reach Colony More, where Paresh disembarked and spotted the familiar sight of the Chartered Bus waiting, its windows fogged with the breath of early morning passengers. He greeted a few regulars with nods and smiles, exchanged pleasantries with the conductor, and took his usual seat near the window.
“Morning, Paresh!” called out Pradip, a fellow passenger and office-goer, as he took the seat across from him. Paresh returned the greeting with a smile, but his mind was already drifting to the work waiting for him at Infinite Technologies Ltd. It was the same routine every day—an hour and a half of chatter, newspaper reading, and watching the urban sprawl of Calcutta grow denser as they approached the city’s heart.
Arrival at the Office
By the time the bus reached Camac Street, Calcutta had fully come alive. The streets were filled with the sounds of rickshaw bells, vegetable vendors calling out their wares, and the clamour of morning traffic. Paresh stepped off the bus and went through the bustling sidewalks to Infinite Technologies Ltd., a modest building between high-end retail stores and banks.
As he entered the office, he exchanged quick “Good mornings” with his colleagues, a familiar routine setting the day’s tone. He slipped into his workstation, a small cubicle that overlooked the street below. The hum of computers and the clatter of keyboards filled the air as the team settled into their tasks.
Paresh sorted through his emails, skimming through project updates and client requests. But just as he was about to head to the canteen for his morning coffee, he spotted Abhay Mukherjee, the Vice President’s secretary, walking towards him with a purposeful stride. Abhay was a stout man in his mid-40s with a belly that hinted at years of comfortable desk work. Despite his build, he moved with surprising agility, his round face perpetually fixed in a no-nonsense expression.
“Paresh, Mr. Dev wants to see you in his office,” Abhay said, his tone as professional as ever. There was a hint of urgency in his voice, the kind that suggested this wasn’t just a routine check-in.
Paresh felt a jolt of surprise. Meetings with Sushanta Dev, the Vice President, usually meant something important was in the works. He nodded, setting aside his plans for a coffee break, and followed Abhay down the corridor to Sushanta’s office.
Sushanta Dev was an imposing figure. He was six feet tall and had a well-built frame that seemed to fill the room. His presence commanded respect, and the entire unit in Calcutta knew him as a man who wielded his authority with a firm hand. He was the kind of leader whose decisions were seldom questioned, and he carried an air of confidence that made people listen when he spoke. As Paresh entered, Sushanta looked up from behind his desk, surrounded by neat stacks of papers and a desktop computer that hummed quietly. He gestured for Paresh to sit down.
“Morning, Paresh. I have an important assignment for you,” he began, getting straight to the point. “We’ve been working on a long-term project with the ING Group, and they want us to run a pilot in Belgium.”
Paresh felt his breath catch. Belgium. It was a place he had never imagined visiting, let alone for work. Sushanta’s next words came quickly, leaving little time for his mind to wander.
“I want you to go there for six months, oversee the project, and handle the work transition back to Calcutta. Srinivas Rao, a Mainframe expert, will accompany you. You’ll need to travel to Delhi this Sunday to get your visas and, from there, fly to Belgium. Don’t worry about the technical side—Srinivas will handle that. Your job is to manage the offshoring process and ensure everything runs smoothly.”
Paresh’s mind spun. The thrill of going abroad for the first time was undeniable, but it came with a pang of nervousness. “Sir, I’ve never worked with Mainframes before,” he admitted, trying to keep his voice steady.
Sushanta waved a hand dismissively. “That’s not your concern. Focus on the transition work, liaise with the team in Belgium, and let Srinivas handle the technicalities. It’s a great opportunity, Paresh, for you and the company.”
Paresh nodded, realising that this was a chance he couldn’t afford to pass up, even if it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Sushanta gave him a curt nod. “Good. Susmita from the Delhi head office will manage the visa arrangements. You’ll meet her there, and she’ll handle everything.”
Meeting Srinivas
After the meeting, Paresh headed to the canteen for a much-needed coffee, his thoughts racing. The excitement of the opportunity was tempered by the realisation that he would be far from home, away from Romila and their daughters, Rina and Tina. He imagined how Romila might react—surprised but supportive, as she had always been throughout their years together.
Around 11 AM, he finally met Srinivas, who had just arrived from another office. Srinivas was four years older than Paresh, with the composed demeanour of someone who had seen much of life’s ups and downs. He extended a hand, and Paresh shook it warmly.
“So, you’re the guy who’s going to handle the Belgium project with me?” Srinivas said, his tone friendly. He adjusted his thick glasses, his smile revealing a hint of curiosity.
“That’s right. Though I’ll be relying on you for the technical stuff,” Paresh replied, trying to keep things light despite the nerves fluttering in his chest. “I’m more of a manager in this one.”
“No worries, I’ve got the technical side covered. Just ensure they don’t miss any deadlines, and we’ll be fine,” Srinivas chuckled. Paresh appreciated the easygoing nature of their conversation. It made working in an unfamiliar place feel a bit less daunting.
Preparations Begin
By lunchtime, Abhay had handed over Paresh’s travel tickets—Indian Airlines to Delhi. Paresh thanked him and returned to Sushanta’s office to confirm his leave. Sushanta reassured him again, “We have arranged for you to stay at the company guest house in Chittaranjan Park. Susmita will sort out the visa formalities in Delhi, and she’ll ensure you’re both on that flight to Belgium. Just focus on getting there and settling in. This project is very important for the company and our unit. This will transform our unit into an offshore development factory serving all ING units worldwide. Thousands of software engineers will work on this project for the next 20-25 years, travelling globally. We are counting on you to make this pilot project successful. After getting your visas, meet Amit.” Amit Tripathi was the Chief Technology Officer at Infinite Technologies.
Paresh left the office that day with the tickets tucked into his bag, feeling excitement and anxiety. As the Chartered Bus carried him back to Barasat through Calcutta’s evening traffic, he looked out at the city that had been his home for years, a place of countless routines and familiar faces. But tonight, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about what lay ahead—and the people he would be leaving behind.
Paresh was 30 years old, and this opportunity to go abroad was a milestone he had long hoped for. He knew that moving to Belgium for six months meant stepping away from the life he had carefully built with his family in Barasat, a life filled with small joys and the occasional struggles. His wife, Romila, was two years older than him, a practical and grounded woman who had been his support system through every twist and turn of their life together.
Romila would be the first to hear the news. She often joked that she brought wisdom while he brought enthusiasm into their marriage. But there was a truth in that. Romila had always been the practical one, the steady anchor that kept their lives on course. She was an Electronics Engineer who had given up her work after Tina was born. While Paresh pursued his career ambitions, Romila balanced the household, managing their finances, caring for their daughters, and ensuring the home ran smoothly.
They had met through family friends, a typical match of the time, but what had blossomed between them was anything but typical. Paresh admired her no-nonsense approach to life, her ability to navigate any situation with a calm head, and the way she could turn even the smallest celebration into a warm memory. She’d supported him through every career decision, every new step. But this—six months in a foreign country—would be different. He knew managing everything alone would be challenging for her, even though she would never admit it.
And then there were the girls. Rina, their four-year-old, was beginning to understand the world around her. She had Romila’s seriousness but a mischievous streak that could light up a room. Every evening when Paresh came home, she would run to him, clutching her newest crayon drawing, eager for his praise. He could already imagine her face when he tried to explain that he’d be away for a while. How do you tell a child that her father won’t be there to see her drawings for six months?
Tina, their youngest, was just one—a bundle of energy and curiosity who had only recently started to say her first words. Her world was still so small, revolving around the familiar rhythms of home. Paresh knew Tina wouldn’t understand his absence, but the thought of missing her first proper sentences and steps tugged at his heart. He could picture Romila managing Tina’s tantrums alone, soothing her with lullabies that he wouldn’t be there to sing along to.
As the bus rattled through the winding roads, Paresh felt the weight of the decision pressing down on him. It wasn’t just about leaving behind the familiarity of Barasat, of Calcutta—it was about leaving behind a life he’d built, a family that relied on his presence. Yet, beneath the worry was a resolve. This opportunity could change things for all of them. It could be the stepping stone that allowed him to provide Romila, Rina, and Tina a better life.
He knew that Romila would understand this. She always saw the bigger picture, even when the details were difficult. But it didn’t make the conversation any easier. He could already imagine the quiet strength in her eyes as she listened, how she would put on a brave face for him, even though he knew it would mean months of added burden on her shoulders.
Paresh sighed, leaning back as the bus journeyed through the darkening streets. In just a few days, he would be in a different country, learning to adapt to new ways of life, surrounded by strangers. But tonight, he still had a few precious hours with those who mattered most.
As the bus neared Sainik Nagar, the familiar sights of Barasat welcoming him back, he resolved to make the most of the next two days with his family. He would hold Rina a little longer as she told him her stories, cradle Tina until she fell asleep in his arms, and sit with Romila on their porch, talking about the future they both dreamed of. He hoped those moments would carry him through the months to come, a reminder of what he was working for and a promise to himself that no distance could change the love that bound them together.
Sharing the News
The Chartered Bus rolled to a stop near Sainik Nagar, and Paresh stepped off, feeling the familiar crunch of gravel beneath his feet. The winter evening had settled in, bringing with it a cool breeze that rustled through the trees lining the quiet lanes of the township. As he walked home, he clutched the folder with his travel tickets a little tighter, thinking about how he would share the news with Romila.
Paresh had always been grateful for the home his father, Deepankar, had built here. Sainik Nagar was an enclosed community where families of former defence personnel lived side by side, sharing stories of a service life. Deepankar had served in the Indian Air Force and later joined Hindustan Levers. His years in the IAF allowed him to buy this plot, which he had turned into a modest but comfortable home. Paresh and Romila had lived here since their marriage, raising Rina and Tina in the safety of this quiet neighbourhood.
When he reached the front gate, he paused momentarily, glancing up at the light in the window where he knew Romila would finish the evening chores. He took a deep breath, rehearsing the words in his head. Six months in Belgium. It sounded like a dream, but it also meant leaving behind everything familiar.
As he pushed open the gate and stepped inside, Rina’s voice rang out, “Baba! Baba!” She came running to him, waving a new drawing she had made—a stick figure family, all smiling under a big yellow sun. Paresh scooped her up with one arm, ruffling her hair, while Tina, still a little wobbly on her feet, clung to Romila’s sari as she watched her father with wide eyes.
“Look what I drew today!” Rina announced proudly, holding up the paper for him to admire. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s beautiful, Rina. You’re getting better every day.”
Romila looked up from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. “You’re back a little late today, Paresh. Everything all right?”
Paresh nodded, gently setting Rina down. He walked over to Romila and took a deep breath. “I have some news, Romila. Big news. I am being sent to Belgium for six months.” He handed her the folder with the travel documents.
Romila wiped her hands on her apron and opened the folder, scanning the tickets inside. It took her a moment, and then her eyes widened. “Paresh, Belgium? For six months?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement.
He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yes, Sushanta sir wants me to handle a pilot project for the ING Group. We leave for Delhi on Sunday to get the visas, and then it’s off to Belgium.” He paused, glancing at the girls playing by their feet. “But… it’s six months, Romila. I’ll be away for that long, and you’ll have to manage everything here alone. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
Romila’s face softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “Paresh, you’ve worked so hard for this kind of opportunity. It’s a big step forward for all of us. Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage. I must, right?” She smiled, her confidence reassuring him even as he noticed the hint of concern in her eyes. “Besides, Rina and Tina will keep me busy. And your father is just a call away.”
Paresh nodded, though he still felt a knot of worry in his chest. Romila always made things sound easy, but he knew how much she balanced daily. But if she believed she could handle it, he had to trust her. “You know I’ll call as often as I can,” he said, even though they both knew how unreliable landlines could be, especially with the phone lines in Sainik Nagar.
A Call to Tollygunge
Later that night, after the girls were tucked into bed, Paresh sat by the landline phone in the living room. The rotary dial clicked as he turned it, each number connecting him to the house in Tollygunge where his parents lived with Deepankar’s brothers.
The phone rang several times before his father’s deep voice came on the line. “Hello?”
“Baba, it’s me, Paresh.”
“Ah, Paresh! How are you, beta? And how are Romila and the kids?” Deepankar’s voice carried the familiar warmth that made Paresh feel like a little boy again, even at 30.
“They’re all well, Baba. I have some news. Sushanta sir has assigned me to a project in Belgium. I’ll be going there for six months,” Paresh said, keeping his tone as even as possible, though he could hear the excitement creeping in.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Deepankar’s voice came back, a little louder, filled with pride. “Belgium! That’s wonderful news, Paresh! I always knew you would make us proud. Your mother will be over the moon when she hears.”
Paresh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Thanks, Baba. But there’s one thing… I’m a little worried about Romila managing everything alone. It’s a long time, and I want to ensure she’s all right.”
Deepankar’s voice grew firm, almost as if he had been waiting for this concern. “Don’t worry about that, Paresh. Your mother and I will come over to Sainik Nagar tomorrow. We’ll stay there until you come back. Romila won’t have to manage alone, and we’ll be there for the girls.”
Paresh felt a rush of relief, his shoulders sagging as the tension he hadn’t even realised he was carrying melted away. “Thank you, Baba. That means a lot. Romila will feel much better knowing you’re here.”
Deepankar chuckled. “Of course, beta. We’ve missed spending time with Rina and Tina anyway. And it’s been too long since I had a proper chat with Romila. We’ll manage everything here. You focus on doing well in Belgium. Make the most of this chance.”
“I will, Baba. Thank you. And please give Ma my love.”
After hanging up the phone, Paresh leaned back in his chair, feeling the day’s weight slowly lift. His parents would arrive tomorrow, bringing a sense of security that only family could provide. For the first time since he’d received the news, he allowed himself to imagine what Belgium might be like—cold winters, new faces, the thrill of a foreign city. And amidst it all, he felt deeply grateful for the people who made it possible for him to take this step.
A Family Gathering
The next morning, around 11 AM, three Ambassador cars pulled up in front of Paresh’s house in Sainik Nagar. The familiar rumble of engines announced the arrival of his parents and relatives before they even stepped out. Deepankar emerged first, wearing his usual crisp white kurta-pajama, a relic of his days in the Indian Air Force. Behind him was Pratima, her saree draped neatly with the gentle grace that had always defined her.
Next, Deepankar’s three brothers and their spouses stepped out, along with Romy, Deepankar’s German Shepherd, who bounded out energetically, barking at the familiar surroundings. Paresh and Romila were already at the gate, waiting with folded hands. “Pranam, Baba, Ma,” Paresh said, bending to touch their feet. Romila followed, her smile warm and genuine. Even little Rina mimicked her parents, doing a clumsy pranam that brought chuckles from the elders.
Deepankar patted Paresh on the back, his pride is evident. “Well, Paresh, we’re here to celebrate the good news you’ve brought us. It’s not every day that one of our own goes off to Europe!” He turned to Romila, his tone softening. “Romila, I’ve brought something special—look after it, will you?”
Paresh watched as his father reached into the back seat and pulled out a package wrapped in a cloth. When he unwrapped it, he revealed two large Hilsa fish, fresh and glistening. Hilsa was a delicacy, and Paresh knew what this meant—a feast was in store. Romila accepted the package with a nod. “Don’t worry, Baba. I’ll make sure it’s perfect.”
The women headed into the kitchen, a buzz of activity surrounding them. The smell of spices soon filled the house as they prepared the fish, mixing the mustard paste with a skill only years of practice could bring. Rina and Tina watched with wide eyes, trying to sneak peeks into the kitchen, fascinated by the commotion.
While the elders busied themselves with the preparations, Rina and Tina played in the courtyard with Romy, the German Shepherd who had always been a part of the family. Romy had a special bond with the girls—he was their guardian and playmate, and today was no different. Rina chased after Romy, with Tina stumbling behind, laughing as Romy barked happily, trotting around them.
Romy, ever vigilant, kept a careful eye on his young charges. He fiercely protected the girls, never allowing strangers or outsiders to come near them. If someone unfamiliar approached the gate, Romy would position himself between the visitor and the girls, his ears perked and his bark a warning. But with Rina and Tina, he was all warmth, letting them tug at his ears and ride on his back, their laughter echoing through the air.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Paresh sat with his uncles in the living room, discussing his upcoming trip to Belgium. Each offered advice and words of pride, their voices mingling with the clinking of utensils and the chatter from the kitchen. Paresh found himself smiling as he listened, the sounds of his family and the joyful shouts of his daughters in the background reminding him of everything he would be leaving behind for the next six months.
A Feast to Remember
By the time lunch was ready, it was past 3:30 PM. The family gathered around the dining table, which had been transformed into a spread of Bengali delights—Hilsa in mustard sauce, steaming rice, fragrant daal, and fried vegetables. Deepankar raised a toast with his glass of water as they sat down to eat, his voice booming: “To Paresh and this new chapter in his life! May this opportunity bring him and us more reasons to celebrate.”
Laughter filled the room as they dug into the meal, the air alive with the warmth of family. Paresh couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. Moments like these reminded him of the roots that kept him grounded, even as he prepared to enter a new world.
Seeking Blessings
As the evening approached, Pratima took Romila and Paresh aside. “Before you leave, I want us to visit the Kali and Shani Temple,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “We must seek the blessings of Ma Kali and Shani Dev for your safe journey.”
Paresh nodded, appreciating his mother’s thoughtfulness. The temple, a small but revered place in their locality, was known for its peaceful ambience and its view of the setting sun. They walked there together, Romila carrying Tina while Rina held Pratima’s hand, asking endless questions about the gods and goddesses depicted in the temple murals.
Inside the temple, Pratima led the prayers with the practised ease of a devout believer. As they lit incense sticks and offered flowers, Paresh closed his eyes, silently asking for the strength to face the challenges ahead. He knew that his mother’s faith had always been a guiding force in their family, and today, he was grateful for its comforting presence.
After their prayers, they made their way back home, the air now cooler with the onset of dusk. Deepankar’s brothers and their spouses bid farewell, climbing back into the Ambassador cars, promising to visit again.
Preparing for Departure
The next Sunday morning, Paresh awoke early, realising his imminent departure. His mother, Pratima, had been up before him, preparing a special meal for lunch—mutton curry, his favourite since childhood. The rich, spicy aroma filled the house, bringing back memories of simpler times.
As he packed his suitcase, Paresh couldn’t help but smile at the little additions Romila made—extra pairs of woollen socks, a jar of pickles she had made, and a photo of their family. “So you don’t forget us while you’re out in Belgium,” she said teasingly, but her eyes held a softness that Paresh knew all too well.
At 5:00 PM sharp, it was time to leave. They all piled into Paresh’s Maruti Baleno, a car that had been a symbol of his steady progress in life. Rina and Tina sat on Romila’s and Pratima’s laps, giggling at the unfamiliar thrill of a night-time car ride. Deepankar took the front seat, his presence solid and reassuring.
They reached Dum Dum Airport by 6:00 PM, the bright lights of the terminal cutting through the early winter evening. Paresh’s stomach fluttered with excitement and nervousness as he exited the car, adjusting his coat. He spotted a familiar face outside the entrance—Srinivas, who had already arrived, waiting with his suitcase.
“Paresh, there you are!” Srinivas called out, waving. His tone was cheerful, but Paresh could see the tension behind his smile. It was, after all, a big step for both.
Paresh turned to his family, bending down to kiss Rina and Tina on their foreheads. “Be good, okay? Listen to Ma, Dadu, and Dida,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Rina clung to him for a moment longer, her small arms wrapped around his neck, before Romila gently pried her away.
Romila placed a hand on his arm, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take care, Paresh. And remember, we’re all waiting for you to return soon.”
Paresh nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll call as soon as I can,” he promised, knowing their landline would be a lifeline between two continents.
With one last hug from his parents, he turned and joined Srinivas, who gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Together, they waved goodbye and entered the airport, where the adventure of a lifetime awaited.
A Delayed Departure
Paresh and Srinivas boarded the flight from Calcutta around 7:30 PM, expecting a smooth journey to Delhi. But things quickly took an unexpected turn. The plane remained on the runway, engines humming, but there was no sign of takeoff. Srinivas glanced at Paresh, both wondering what could be causing the delay. After nearly an hour, the airline staff announced a technical snag and requested all passengers to deplane and board a different aircraft.
Srinivas chuckled as they gathered their bags and joined the queue of weary passengers. “Well, Paresh, this is our first lesson in patience. Maybe it’s a test before Belgium,” he remarked, trying to lighten the mood.
Paresh smiled despite the inconvenience. “If this is the start, I wonder what’s in store for us next,” he replied, though deep down, he hoped the rest of the trip would be smoother.
After changing planes, they finally landed in Delhi around 11:50 PM. Even at that late hour, the airport buzzed with activity, and they quickly made their way to the taxi stand. After some negotiation, they found a CNG taxi to take them to Chittaranjan Park, where their stay had been arranged at the Guest House.
A Long Search for the Guest House
As they rode through the quiet streets of Delhi, the chill of the winter night seeped through the slightly cracked windows of the taxi. Srinivas leaned back, trying to get comfortable, while Paresh watched the dark streets outside. But soon, it became clear that the driver needed to learn where the guest house was. He kept glancing at the address on the paper, muttering in frustration.
For over an hour, they drove around in circles through the winding lanes of Chittaranjan Park, the headlights cutting through the foggy night. The driver’s frustration grew as he repeatedly checked the same streets, looking for landmarks that matched the address. Meanwhile, Paresh and Srinivas scanned the empty sidewalks, hoping to find anyone who could point them in the right direction.
Eventually, they spotted two figures walking unsteadily down the road. They didn’t look entirely steady, but with no other options, Paresh decided to take a chance and approached them. As he got closer, it became clear that the men were drunk—very drunk. But desperation makes one do strange things, and in a burst of inspiration, Paresh exclaimed, “Jai Maa Kali!” hoping that invoking the goddess might change their luck.
To his surprise, the exclamation had an immediate effect—though not quite what he had expected. The two men stopped in their tracks, their faces breaking into wide, drunken grins. They staggered toward Paresh with outstretched arms. “Arrey, Bengali bhai!” one of them slurred, throwing his arms around Paresh in a clumsy hug. They greeted him with the enthusiasm of old friends, shaking his hands vigorously and patting his back.
Srinivas, watching from the taxi, could barely contain his laughter. “Looks like you’ve made some friends, Paresh!” he called out, amused by the unexpected turn of events.
Paresh managed to extract himself from their enthusiastic embraces and, seeing they still had some sense of direction left, asked them for help finding the guest house. Miraculously, the men understood his request, and in their inebriated state, they offered to guide them there personally. They insisted on squeezing into the front seat next to the driver, chattering away in a mix of Bengali and Hindi.
The driver, bewildered but resigned, glanced back at Paresh, who could only shrug helplessly. True to their word, the two men navigated the maze of Chittaranjan Park’s lanes with surprising accuracy. After several turns, they finally reached the guest house, tucked away behind a cluster of trees, just as the clock struck 3:30 AM.
Paresh thanked the men profusely, and they waved him off with enthusiastic salutes before continuing their staggered journey down the road. As he and Srinivas gathered their bags, they couldn’t help but marvel at the unexpected twist of the night.
A Brief Rest Before the Day Begins
The caretaker of the Guest House, a sleepy-eyed older man wrapped in a thick blanket, opened the door for them. He looked relieved to see the two travellers, muttering how he’d almost given up hope of their arrival. He led them inside, showing them to their simple but comfortable rooms.
As soon as Paresh dropped his bags, exhaustion washed over him. He settled into bed, reflecting on the chaotic start to their journey—the delayed flight, the lost taxi, and their unlikely guides. In the next room, Srinivas called out through the thin wall, “Paresh, if the rest of this journey is as eventful as tonight, we’re in for quite the adventure.”
Paresh laughed softly, replying, “Let’s hope Belgium is a little less unpredictable than Delhi. Goodnight, Srinivas.”
With that, both men drifted asleep, knowing the next day would bring a new set of challenges—perhaps some more unexpected turns.
A Visa Conundrum
The next morning, Paresh and Srinivas dressed in their best suits, trying to look as professional as possible for their embassy appointment. The chilly air of Delhi greeted them as they stepped outside, but their minds were preoccupied with the task ahead. They went to the Infinite Technologies head office in Kalkaji, where they were handed a sealed envelope containing an invitation letter from Goldman Sachs and tickets to London.
As they flipped through the documents, Paresh furrowed his brow. The entire situation seemed odd—their destination was Belgium, not London. Yet here they were, headed to the British Embassy with a letter that tied them to Goldman Sachs. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of confusion. But years of navigating office politics had taught him one thing: sometimes, it was best to keep questions to oneself. Infinite Technologies was known for such mix-ups, whether sending a Visual Basic programmer when a PowerBuilder expert was needed or overlooking some minor but crucial detail. So, Paresh held his tongue, hoping the embassy staff would have the answers he needed.
The ride to the British Embassy was quiet, the air filled with the occasional honking of auto-rickshaws and the chatter of early morning commuters. When they arrived, Paresh and Srinivas joined the queue outside the embassy gates, waiting their turn with their papers. The embassy building stood imposingly against the grey sky, its gates symbolising the bureaucracy they were about to face.
After what felt like hours, they finally reached the first verification point. A stern-looking officer behind the glass window took their documents, scanning through the invitation letter and the other paperwork with a practised eye. His expression grew more serious, and he peered up at Paresh and Srinivas. “I’m afraid I can’t admit you for a visa with these papers,” he said firmly.
Paresh felt a sinking sensation in his chest. “What do you mean, sir?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The officer handed back the papers through the small window slot. “Goldman Sachs may be the intended client, but you need a letter from the representative office of the vendor they are working with—your sponsor. Without that, we cannot process your visa application. You need to sort this out before you come back.”
Paresh and Srinivas exchanged a look, the gravity of the situation sinking in. There would be no visa today. They gathered their documents, thanked the officer, and left the embassy with little choice.
A Disheartening Return
As they exited the British Embassy, Srinivas looked visibly dejected. His shoulders slumped, and he barely spoke as they boarded an auto-rickshaw to return to their head office. The noise of Delhi’s traffic seemed to intensify around them, but Srinivas was lost in his thoughts, staring out at the passing buildings. Paresh tried to lift his spirits, offering a few words of encouragement, but nothing seemed to ease the disappointment on his colleague’s face.
“Look, Srinivas, this isn’t the end of the road. We’ll sort this out with the office, and they’ll get us what we need. It’s just a small delay,” Paresh said, trying to keep his spirits up. But even he couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt creeping into his mind. The uncertainty of their situation loomed over them like a dark cloud.
Srinivas sighed, finally turning to face Paresh. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard not to feel like this whole trip is falling apart before it even starts,” he muttered, managing a weak smile. “It’s just… I had everything planned out in my head, you know?”
Paresh nodded, understanding all too well. He knew how much this opportunity meant to both. They had prepared themselves mentally for the challenges ahead in Belgium, but this unexpected twist had thrown everything off balance.
The auto-rickshaw weaved through the busy streets, and soon enough, they found themselves back in front of their office in Kalkaji. They went inside, their earlier enthusiasm dampened by the day’s events. The administration department listened to their account of what had happened at the embassy, nodding thoughtfully as they explained the missing paperwork.
“Wait here while we sort this out,” the admin officer said, gesturing for them to sit in the lobby.
And so they waited, watching the office staff’s comings and goings, the ringing of phones and clattering of keyboards filling the air. Paresh glanced over at Srinivas, who still looked crestfallen and wondered how long it would take to resolve this new hurdle. But he kept his worries to himself, focusing instead on hoping the next steps would lead them closer to their goal.
As they sat there, the thought lingered in Paresh’s mind—perhaps their journey to Belgium wouldn’t be as straightforward as they had imagined. But then again, he mused that if he had learned anything in his career, it was nothing worth having ever come without a few obstacles.
A Visa Detour
The next two days were filled with uncertainty and waiting. Paresh and Srinivas sat in the lobby of Infinite Technologies’ Delhi office, hoping for some good news about their visas. During this time, Paresh learned much more about his travel companion. Srinivas, usually reserved, opened in his moments of frustration. Paresh learned that Srinivas had a deeply personal reason for wanting to go to Europe—securing a European visa on his passport would brighten his chances of marriage. It wasn’t just about the adventure; a European stamp would add to his status and could even increase the dowry he might receive.
Paresh couldn’t help but smile inwardly at this revelation. It felt like one of those puzzles he was constantly solving in life. His “continuous education program,” as he liked to call it, had offered him another lesson in human motivations.
Finally, after two days of waiting and Srinivas’s restless pacing, the administration department summoned them back. They handed Paresh and Srinivas a new invitation letter from Infinite Technologies’ office in the Netherlands and new tickets to Amsterdam. Their next stop was the Dutch Embassy.
A Long Wait at the Dutch Embassy
Paresh and Srinivas arrived at the Dutch Embassy, where they found themselves seated near the entrance in a small, air-conditioned room. The room was filled with other applicants, all clutching their documents and waiting their turn. They took their seats and prepared for what they hoped would be a straightforward process.
As the minutes turned into hours, Paresh leaned back in his chair, allowing his tired eyes to close for a brief nap. But suddenly, he felt Srinivas shaking him awake, his grip urgent. “Paresh, wake up! Everyone who came after us is being called inside, and we’re still here!” Srinivas’s voice was edged with anxiety.
Paresh rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. “Relax, Srinivas. There’s not much we can do about it,” he replied, trying to sound calm. But Srinivas was anything but peaceful. He continued to fret, pacing up and down the room, his nervous energy attracting glances from the other applicants. Paresh could feel the weight of those looks, a mix of curiosity and annoyance, and tried to ignore them.
Eventually, Srinivas couldn’t take it anymore. He marched over to the agent who had accompanied them and launched into a tirade about the delay. The agent was caught off guard and apologised before disappearing from the room, leaving Srinivas speechless and frustrated.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” Srinivas muttered as he returned to Paresh’s side, his shoulders slumping. He looked around the room, too anxious to leave if he wasn’t allowed back in.
Paresh sighed, but a security guard approached them before he could respond. The guard gestured to a door down the hall. “Sir, please go to that room. Your turn has come.”
A Familiar Face at the Embassy
Paresh and Srinivas walked down the hall, following the guard’s directions to a room where a desk awaited them. As they reached the desk, Paresh couldn’t believe his eyes. Seated, there was a lady who looked strikingly familiar. He quickly did a mental double-take and realised she had been a schoolmate from his days in Delhi. She glanced up from the papers, and her expression shifted from professional detachment to surprise and recognition.
“Paresh? Is that you?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face.
Paresh grinned, relieved to see a friendly face after all the confusion. “Yes, it’s me. It’s been ages!”
The unexpected reunion melted away the formalities. With the connection reestablished, their visa process became a smooth ride. She quickly reviewed their documents, ensured everything was in order, and assured them they would have their passports back the next day.
Paresh and Srinivas left the embassy with a sense of accomplishment, a weight lifted from their shoulders. Srinivas’s relief was palpable as they entered the cool Delhi evening. “Paresh, you do have a way of making things work out,” he said, his earlier frustration replaced by a wide smile.
Paresh chuckled, waving away the compliment. “Sometimes, it’s just about knowing the right people.”
Preparing for the Journey
With renewed hope, Paresh suggested they make a practical purchase before returning to the guesthouse. “We’ll need overcoats for Europe. Neither of us has one, and it’s bound to be freezing out there,” he pointed out.
Srinivas nodded in agreement, and they made their way to the bustling South Extension market, where Delhi’s elite shopped for winter wear. After bargaining, they each picked out a sturdy overcoat, mufflers, and woollen socks. Still thinking ahead, Srinivas added a pair of gloves to his purchase.
The next day arrived, and with it came the long-awaited news. At around 5 PM, they received their passports, stamped with the Dutch visa. The office staff informed them their flight was scheduled for 3 AM that night.
Calling Home
Back at the guesthouse, Paresh and Srinivas packed their bags with urgency. The realisation that they were finally about to board a plane to Europe filled the air with excitement and relief. As they double-checked their belongings, Paresh couldn’t help but think back to the rollercoaster of the past few days—the delays, the confusion, and the unexpected help at the embassy. It hadn’t been a straightforward journey, but he knew one thing: this adventure was beginning.
With their bags packed and a few hours to spare before their 3 AM flight, Paresh decided to call home and share the news. He slipped on his jacket and stepped out of the guesthouse into the chilly night. The streets were quiet, lit only by the dim glow of streetlights. A few steps away, he spotted a familiar red and yellow public telephone booth, one of the many that dotted the corners of Delhi in those days.
Paresh stepped inside the booth, grateful for its shelter from the cold. He picked up the receiver, dialled the long sequence of numbers for his home in Sainik Nagar, and waited as the phone rang on the other end. After a few moments, a voice crackled through the line—it was Romila.
“Hello?” she answered, sounding slightly anxious as if she had been waiting for his call.
“Romila, it’s me, Paresh,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face at the familiar sound of her voice. “We finally got the visas. Our flight is at 3 AM, and we’re heading to Amsterdam via Paris.”
There was a moment of silence as she processed the news, and then he heard the relief in her voice. “Oh, Paresh, that’s such good news! We’ve all been waiting to hear from you. Baba and Ma were starting to worry with all the delays.”
Paresh imagined his parents sitting in the living room, their concern turning into relief as they heard the news. “Yes, it’s been a hectic few days, but things are finally looking up. How are Rina and Tina? Are they asleep?”
Romila’s voice softened. “Yes, they’re both asleep. Tina had a bit of a cold, but she’s doing better now. Rina has been asking about you daily, wondering when you’ll return.”
Paresh felt a pang in his chest, missing the familiar chaos of his home. “Tell them I’ll call as soon as I reach Belgium. And… take care of yourself, Romila. It will be a few months, but I know you’ll manage just fine.”
“I’ll manage, don’t worry about us. Baba and Ma are here with me and are a great help. You focus on your work and come back safely. We’re all proud of you,” she said, her voice steady but warm.
Paresh felt a surge of gratitude. He knew how much Romila was shouldering in his absence, and her unwavering support meant everything to him. “I will. I love you, Romila. Give my love to the girls, and thank Baba and Ma for being there.”
“They’ll be so relieved to hear you’re finally on your way,” she said. “I love you too, Paresh. Call us as soon as you can.”
After exchanging a few more words, Paresh hung up the phone, feeling relieved. As he stepped out of the booth, the cold air hit him again, but this time, it felt invigorating. He took a deep breath, feeling lighter now that he had shared the news with his family. The worries that had weighed on him for days seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of purpose and determination.
He walked back to the guesthouse, where Srinivas was waiting with a hopeful look in his eyes. “So, all set, Paresh?” Srinivas asked, glancing at his watch. “Just a few more hours, and we’ll be coming.”
Paresh nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. “Yes, Srinivas. Let’s do this.”
As they sat in the quiet of the guesthouse, sipping on cups of chai provided by the caretaker, they both knew that the journey ahead would be challenging. But for now, the promise of new beginnings and the thrill of setting foot on foreign soil was enough to keep their spirits high.
Crossing Borders
Paresh and Srinivas boarded the Air France flight with excitement and anticipation. The thought of crossing continents and leaving behind the familiar chaos of Delhi filled Paresh with a sense of adventure. As the plane taxied down the runway, he looked out the window at the twinkling lights of the airport, wondering what awaited him on the other side of the world.
After a smooth takeoff, Paresh settled into his seat, glancing at the passengers around him. Seated next to him was an American priest, his neatly pressed black suit and clerical collar standing against the sea of weary travellers. The priest introduced himself as Father John, a missionary who had spent the past nine months in Nagaland, a remote region in northeastern India. Now, he was returning to Chicago, carrying stories of a land that few Americans had seen.
The two of them started a conversation. Paresh listened with genuine interest as Father John shared tales of his time in Nagaland—of misty hills and small villages, of the unique customs and vibrant traditions of the Naga tribes. The priest spoke of the warm hospitality he had encountered, the challenges of learning a new language, and the moments of connection that had made his time there so meaningful.
Paresh, in turn, shared stories of his experiences in Calcutta and Barasat, and the cultural richness of India’s diverse regions. The hours slipped by as they exchanged stories and perspectives, bridging the gap between their worlds. As the plane crossed countries, Paresh felt a sense of camaraderie with this stranger, journeying far from home in pursuit of their missions.
After nine hours in the air, the flight finally touched down in Paris. The sprawling expanse of Charles de Gaulle Airport stretched before them, bustling with travellers from every corner of the globe. Paresh and Srinivas disembarked, feeling the cool European air hit their faces as they entered the terminal. About two hours before connecting to Amsterdam, they had enough time to stretch their legs and grab a quick bite.
Paresh watched Father John disappear into the crowd with a wave and a smile. “Safe travels, my friend,” the priest had said, his parting words echoing in Paresh’s mind as he and Srinivas made their way through the busy terminal. They wandered through the shops, marvelling at the wide array of French delicacies and souvenirs, before finding their departure gate.
