When most of my colleagues went over to the US, I somehow wanted to continue in India, and landed a great job (in my mind) at a research lab of a leading Indian company (which I cannot name!) in Pune. The pay was good, but more importantly I was engaged in research that I hoped will make difference to the world and to our country.I was happy, but my father, Mr Krishnamurthy was not. He felt that I should have gone to the US, taken an MNC job etc etc. I tried arguing and after a shouting match on my last visit (4 months back), decided to rest the case. My father was in the financial services industry, and a classic corporate biggie who defined success in terms of fancy cars, overseas visits and corporate parties. My younger sister who was in medical college was also of the opinion that I was an idiot to have “wasted” my chance to “escape India”. Well I did not care for either of their opinion.I cared about the opinion and feelings of the one person in my family that I was attached to. They arrived home at 5.15, the Tarts wandering off almost as soon as they had got indoors. Toileted once more, Terry made tea, and they sat quietly contemplating the day. The doctors had said that Patty would be home before the months end, so there was light at the end of the family tunnel.Neither being capable of driving, even if they had a car now, the lad being too young and mum incapable, Mr Tart offered to take them every other day, as long as they paid the fuel. They ate, watched telly then bedtime loomed, he locked up and together they went up the wooden hill. Again, he stripped her, tucked her in, then slid in beside her, both naked, neither mentioning sex or love at all, laying quietly together, arms round one another, switching out the light, they lay each with their own thoughts. Outside from the big bay window at the foot of the bed, the flat marshland lay dotted with sheep, contentedly laying as sheep do grey heaps in the moonlight with the moon silver on the grass.
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