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September 2006
Krishna is home for a weekend from the University of Virginia at Charlottesville where he is a freshman. Mom and dad are happy to see him back home for a few days. I am upstairs in my room talking to Dan about our band practice. We are hoping to get an invitation to play at next year’s Valentine’s Day party at our school.
Our conversation is interrupted by loud noises emanating from downstairs. I hear Krishna but can barely understand what he is saying and Dad seems excited about something. I have to find out what’s going on. I tell Dan I’ll call him later and rush downstairs.
“Look here. Did you hear this?” Dad is telling Mom as he walks to where she prepares dinner in the kitchen. Krishna and Lakshmi are sitting in the living room on the L-shaped sofa watching TV. Mom can see them over the half wall between the kitchen and the living room.
I have never heard Dad call my mom by her first name during conversations in the house. It’s always “look here” or “Mommy,” when in front of us. It’s the same thing with her. She calls him “Daddy,” as we do. But when talking with our neighbors about Dad, she does not hesitate to refer to him as Vijay. “Vijay” did this or “Vijay” said this. Dad also refers to her as “Sharada” when talking about her with his Indian friends. I don’t know why this is so. It has to be some Indian tradition.
“Hear what?” she asks as the onions in the skillet sizzle like a low whistle and send a misty smoke above the gas range. She turns her face away to avoid the hot vapor coming at her face.
“We are going to have a doctor in the house.” Dad has a big smile.
I knew this was going to happen one of these days.
“Oh, yeah. How’s that?” she says, turning toward us.
“You tell her,” Dad says to Krishna.
Krishna has elected to follow the medical track.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you each select a different career? A doctor or an engineer.” Dad often says this when we gather for a family dinner or sit around in the family room. He avoids mentioning what he wants Lakshmi to be.
Lakshmi likes working with young kids. When she was in middle school, she started volunteering in the local library part-time. In the beginning, helping to put books back on the shelves, and later they trained her to work the information desk. In the summer she got a job working with small kids — playing games, and reading storybooks to them. She enjoyed it and got paid for the work, too.
Dad once asked her what she would do with the money she earned.
“Girls always have the stuff to buy.” She replied.
When Lakshmi once said she wanted to be a Kindergarten teacher, Dad kept quiet. He picked up a magazine and started flipping pages. He had no follow-up questions.

So, now that Krishna wants to be a doctor Dad is happy. At least it is a start to fulfill his ambition for an immigrant’s life in the United States, to achieve status in the Indian community, have bragging rights about professionally successful kids earning lots of money, and drive fancy cars. Now the onus is on me to be an Engineer which I am not that keen on becoming.
Once I asked him why he wanted me to be an engineer, when there may be other career choices in America.
“What if I don’t want to be an engineer?” I speak.
“What else would you rather be?”
I want to say I want to be a writer, a musician, or a professional athlete, but I say nothing. I know it would be a waste of time and result in an endless argument.
It’s always like this. My dad and I don’t agree with what I should be in my adult life. Mom never participates in these discussions. She goes away to read a book or looks at a YouTube video on her iPad.
Maybe when my dad was growing up in India, there weren’t that many career choices or one just chose the few that promised great wealth, recognition, fame, and standing in the community.

When Krishna finishes telling us his plans to be a doctor, Mom comes over and hugs him. We all gather around him to tell him what a good choice he has made.
“It’s going to be hard,” I say.
“Yes,” he replies. “I think I can do it. If I am successful I may be able to do something good for the people.”
“Well, I am happy for you. Good luck ”
I shake his hand. Lakshmi also gets up and hugs him.
We are all underage for drinking, at least I am. Otherwise, I can imagine Dad opening a bottle of wine or something to offer a celebratory drink. He is a vegetarian but enjoys having a drink, especially scotch. I am sure he is going to spread the word on every occasion he gets during Indian get-togethers. I have to be ready to face an onslaught of questions coming at me to explain what my career goals are going to be. Am I going to be a doctor to follow in the footprints of my elder brother? Am I going to be an engineer or an IT professional and start a business? I will always be compared to somebody’s so and so who has become successful in these types of careers.
I dread the months to come. After dinner, I retreat to my room to strum on my guitar to calm myself.

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To read chapter 3, click here. https://wp.me/p2b25R-fP