As I was leaving for Dumdum airport to catch my return flight to the US during my last visit to India, many of my relatives asked me when I was going to be back to see them again. One cousin-sister asked a more pointed question: “Do you ever think about coming back to your motherland permanently?” I had thought about this and related questions hundreds of times in my head. Would I ever go back for good? What would be the reasons? What would I sacrifice by returning to India?

Since it is unlikely that I would ever be completely assimilated into American society, what are the reasons for not going back? After years of soul-searching I had concluded that I could return to India under three scenarios. I could return if I lived like a Bollywood celebrity. It would not only be returning to my homeland, but it would also be living a fantasy and without sacrificing any luxury and convenience of my American life. I often watch YouTube clips of famous Bollywood actors and actresses attending various programmes and ceremonies in their dazzling outfits. They come in chauffeur-driven expensive foreign cars and live in huge mansions in places like Juhu and Bandra.

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Many have personal security guards. I am sure that they have dozens of domestic help at their beck and call, ready to serve them in every possible way and the best medical care available. They do not even have to tolerate one minute of inconvenience in their daily routines, inside or outside of their homes. They do not face the weather or the crowd or maddening traffic. On top of it, they enjoy admiration and good wishes from millions of fans from all over the country.

Yes, that is an appealing life I can go for. Unlike living in the US, I can eat delicious Indian food every day, watch Indian films in movie theaters, see cricket players in live action and talk to everyone every hour of the day in my native language. Unfortunately, this is an absurd dream. I certainly do not look like Salman Khan or Hrithik Roshan. I am a short balding man with no muscle tone or sharp features. However, I have comedic talent. I love comedy and even dabbled in performing stand-up comedy in my younger years. I can draw enough material from my experience of living in a dual culture. I could have aspired to become a character actor or host a comedy show like Kapil Sharma. Even though it is not the same as becoming an A-list actor, I could hobnob with them at various events.

Alas, that ship has sailed. My youth and ambitions are gone now along with any opportunity. I can seriously consider a return if I could do something good for the country; but what does “something good” mean? Wide-spread corruption in India has always bothered me. I can imagine devoting the rest of my life in efforts to eradicate corruption, perhaps being an assistant to someone like Anna Hazare. I can even join my college-friend Saugata Roy in some desi politics in an effort to change some laws with an anti-corruption agenda. My decades of living in the US could provide unique perspectives and eliminate root causes. However, from an emotional point of view, the most appealing “good deed” to me is helping orphan children.

Mother Teresa inspires me when I see her photographs in Kolkata orphanages holding helpless sick babies. I have not seen similar photos of any Indian celebrity. I am not a compassionate man and never held an orphan in my arms, but my heart cries out for children in misery. Adults have their physical strength and mental capacity to somehow survive but children desperately need our support, especially orphans. I donate money to Saint Jude’s Research Hospital in the US for their fight against childhood cancer and similar causes, but it would be different and much more satisfying to participate in the cause in a hands-on manner in India. I would like to hold an orphan child in my arms and give him/her food, clothes and toys to see him/her smile and give hope for the future; not just as a one-time event but as a continuing way for the rest of my life.

I would like to establish a school and/or hostel for such children. Knowing how many couples in the US crave for a little kid, I can start a business promoting the adoption of orphan children from India. I will run it as an honest non-profit business. This plan is easier said than done. Just to break into any kind of organizational activity and/or politics, I would need not only support and publicity but also an in-depth knowledge of local culture and current political environment. The third scenario does not even involve big cities like Mumbai or Kolkata. When I was thirteen years old, I visited Rishikesh and Laxman Jhula with my parents for the first (and only) time.

I was so moved by the beauty and serenity of the place that even at that tender age, I felt that I could leave everything behind and live there. It was as if the majestic Himalayas were calling me, and the rushing water of the blue river was giving me inspiration to break free of everything. Thanks to YouTube, I can now watch videos filmed in Rishikesh and surrounding areas. The town has changed and become more commercialized, with five-star hotels and shops, but I still feel that I can happily live there. I spent most of my childhood years in houses on the river Ganges. I am always moved by the sight of the river. To me, it was the essence of living life. The river brought the water we drank, the fish we ate, the fertility of the rice fields, the holy arena where we bathed and worshipped, the navigation channel of all goods we consumed and when it would be all over, our bodies were cremated on the riverbank and ashes scattered in water.

In my quest for where I came from, I must first find out where the river Ganges originated. I have only heard about and seen video clips of “Gangotri”, “Amarnath”, “Deva Prayag” etc.; I want to visit these places; wander around the Himalayas with a cane in search of the supreme being and ask Him where I came from. Only then my knowledge about life would be complete. This scenario is still possible. I do not need anyone’s help. I have enough savings to support all my daily needs until I die. I know that the environment and “shakahari” diet would keep me healthy and peaceful. I gave a clear and honest answer to my cousin-sister: “Yes. I will come back, not to Kolkata but to the Himalayas for my ultimate quest”. As my taxi sped to the airport, a song from the movie “Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai” played in my head: “Aa ab laut chalen …..tujhko pukare desh tera”.

(The writer, a physicist who worked in industry and academia, is a Bengali settled in America.)