Living The Dream!

Back at the end of January my friend Dana Leeds, The Enthusiastic Genealogist, wrote in her blog about telling our own story.  She reminds us that our stories are just as important as those of our ancestors. In researching our past we often acquire tunnel vision and fail to make notes of our own momentous moments. Dana’s story about her childhood was charming, and something I’m sure her daughter and eventual grandchildren will enjoy.

This got me thinking about my husband and his story of how he came to the United States. My husband grew up in India. When he was born, India was still under British rule. His father was a policeman and about 18 years older than his mother, who was a mere child of only 14 years when he was born. Despite the fact that his father was employed, their life was a struggle. There were often times when there was not enough money for food. Every rupee and paise needs to be accounted for.  Somehow Raman manages to get through school, even graduating from college and even gets a Master’s degree in Physics. At age 19, he lands a prestigious job as a junior research fellow at the National Aeronautics’ Lab, Bangalore  earning 250 rupees a month.

The Jayamahal Road Building was actually a stable of the Mysore Maharaja's Palace

 There he works directly under the director and founder of the lab Dr. P. Nilakantan. He was rich! He was on top of the world! But it was short lived, for his father suddenly drops dead. His carefree world collapses as he becomes the sole provider for his mother, grandmother and three siblings.

His job at the Nat’l. Aeronautics Lab is not as copacetic as he hoped. Co-workers are jealous and are full of resentment of his position. But disaster strikes here too, in 1964 the Director dies. Now suddenly his job is in jeopardy. The writing is on the wall as his research slows down. No one was willing to take him on to help continue the work. Something had to change. His only hope and dream was to somehow get to the US continue his education and earn more money.

But this takes money too. Applications to any university have a fee and then there’s postage. All this added expense was difficult to come up with. It also took time. Raman applies to Harvard, Princeton, and John Hopkins and he was accepted at all of them. But none of them offered any stipend or scholarship.

Call it Karma, call it Fate or the alignment of the stars, we all know life can change in a heartbeat. One night when he was visiting a fellow co-worker he noticed an application in the wastepaper basket. It was for Brown University.  His friend’s parents refused to let him travel to the US for further studies. The reason behind their refusal is that for the Braham class of India, it is taboo to travel across the ocean. But Raman put that thought behind him and asked if he could have the application. Armed with renewed hope, he sends in the application with a letter pouring out reasons why the application fees should be waived. And then he waits.

Brown University in 1964 was celebrating its bicentennial.  In celebration of this momentous occasion the University has extra money to give to well deserving applicants.  Raman was one of those lucky applicants. He was given a stipend of $163 a month and tuition was waived!

Somehow he manages to get the money for a passport and airfare and with just $7.00 in his pocket, he leaves India. Fifty-one years later with a PhD, one son, a lovely daughter-in-law, a handsome grandson and a wonderful second marriage with me, he continues to live the dream!

                                   And of course he lives happily ever after.