I Want to Go Home

By A. S. Pardesi

After finishing work, when Ravi gets to the apartment, which he shares with his sister, Preeti, he finds her crumpled on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood. Preeti has aborted a baby.

She started seeing Prem, a newly arrival medical graduate student from India, seeking residency program in the USA.
But Prem was planning to leave her and consent to his parents wishes and marry someone that they have chosen.

When Ravi finds out this, he calls Prem and tells him off, warns him of his reputation. After convincing his parents, Prem marries Preeti, but is he happy in this relationship and is there any bond that ever builds between Prem and Ravi?

Ravi and Preeti drift apart. 20 years pass by. One day, Ravi receives a message that Prem wants to get in touch with him. After calling, Ravi finds out that Preeti has Alzheimer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664159730

Book preview

Chapter 1

A fter working his midnight shift at the JFK Airport as a flight dispatcher with a charter airlines, Ravi returned home to the studio apartment that he shared with his sister in Manhattan on East Eighty-Fifth Street. It was a tiresome night. The charter flight that left for Amsterdam had a mechanical problem. Passengers could not board the plane right away. The waiting area was becoming a chaotic zone. Some of the flight attendants tried to assist the passengers with their irritable children. It was way beyond their bedtime hour. The senior F/A rushed into the operations room to get someone from the commissary area to help out with some warm beverages, but they were nowhere around. It was becoming a total disaster.

Finally, after a long one hour and forty minutes, the engineers sent in the message to let the boarding begin. A sigh of relief fell in that dispatch room. Everybody went to their stations, and someone made an announcement regarding boarding. The dreary passengers dragged themselves and started lining up in front of the now cheerful flight attendant. One by one, they entered the aircraft, and the lounge area of the terminal emptied. Within a short period, the doors of the aircraft closed. The pilot made his announcements and taxied out of the terminal onto the runway for liftoff. As soon as he got the okay from the tower, he sped on that runway and took off.

By the time Ravi had finished his paperwork, it was already close to 6:00 a.m. If he hurried, he could catch the 6:12 a.m. bus that departed across from the terminal that would take him into the city. He grabbed his jacket and backpack, placed his report on his manager’s desk, and ran out of the office to where the bus was standing.

He boarded the bus, showed the driver his pass, went all the way back, placed his bag on the rack above, and sank into the seat near the window, looking at the other passengers boarding.

Maybe, he thought, I can take a little snooze before I get to Manhattan. With that, he took his jacket off, placed it over him, put his head back, made himself more comfortable, and closed his eyes. He felt the driver starting the bus and giving it a little tug, and that was the last thing he remembered.

The first time Ravi had arrived at JFK, Preethi, his sister, had come over to pick him up. He was coming from London, where he had just finished his O-levels (high school) equivalency and was in the middle of his next career decision making when Preethi had come over for a short stay. That was when the two decided that Ravi should move to New York under Preethi’s sponsorship. That was two years ago.

Ravi was suddenly woken up. The driver had pulled the brake. When he opened his eyes, they were already out of the tunnel and heading into the early-morning city traffic. Ravi got up, looked around, and saw the other passengers, some sleeping, some looking out, and others reading. He got up a little and put on his jacket, sat back again, and started looking out at the Thirty-Third Street traffic. Maybe, he thought, I will tell the driver to let me off Lexington Avenue. This way, I can take the Uptown train to Eighty-Sixth and then walk to the apartment. He got up, opened the top compartment, and took out his backpack. He strung that over his shoulder, walked up the aisle to the driver, and whispered quietly.

The driver smiled, and he said, No problem.

The bus stopped at the corner of Thirty-Third and Lexington Avenue. As the door opened, Ravi thanked the driver and stepped down. The entrance to the Uptown train was right there. He went down the steps. Luckily, he already had a subway token. He inserted the token, went onto the platform, and started to wait for the subway to arrive. The platform started to fill up with other commuters. Shortly, the train arrived. It was already packed, but Ravi was able to squeeze himself between two hefty women. He was tired from the night before and was not ready to stand up.

In a couple of stops, Ravi reached his destination, Eighty-Sixth Street. The walk to the apartment was only a few blocks, but he decided he would take the commercial street, Eighty-Sixth, where he could stop at the Glaser’s bakeshop to pick up some pastries and coffee for both his sister and himself. He could have breakfast with her before he went to bed.

Glaser’s was one of the oldest bakeries in Yorkville, opened in 1902, and became an established black-and-white cookie destination. Other baking goods to try were the cake varieties that came with thick layers of fluffy frosting versus fondant-like topping. Creampuffs, éclairs, and kitchen sink cookies were highlights too at this bakery.

The assistant behind the counter placed the cookies neatly in a box, wrapped it with a string, poured two coffees, placed them in a bag, and handed them over, where Ravi collected the bag, paid the assistant, and left the bakeshop.

It had only been two years since he moved here from London. Already, he was very familiar with the neighborhood. He wished he would have more time to spend with the new friends he had made, but the night shifts that he was working at the airport did not allow him to have much of a social life. The only compensation of working with the airlines