Finding Light: A Mother’s Journey to India and the Light That Led Her Home

By Pamela Beth Bhatia

In January 2011, Pamela Bhatia closed her photography studio to relocate to India with her husband, two boys, and their dog. As their plane touched down at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, Bhatia woke her boys and exited the flight. A new phase of their life as a family had begun, and she had no idea the experiences and life lessons that were about to unfold.

In a compelling memoir, Bhatia shares a candid glimpse into her vulnerable journey as she raised her boys in a third-world country, just prior to the killing of Osama bin Laden. While detailing her thoughts and unique personal experiences that tested everything she knew and believed in, Bhatia offers inspiring messages around her broken marriage, missing purpose, culture conflicts, differences in opinion of what a successful woman, wife, and mother should be, and the difficult life choices that will ultimately define her. Throughout her narrative, Bhatia encourages and empowers others to summon the inner strength to overcome life’s greatest challenges, get “unstuck” and create their ideal life. She shines a light on the importance and power of decision even in the mist of uncertainty. Whether you are in a third world country or small town USA you will see parts of yourself in this story. You will be inspired. You will be challenged. You will be changed. Are you ready?

Finding Light is the memoir of an award-winning international photographer who journeyed with her family to India and ultimately to the light that led her home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Nov 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781489743305

Pamela Beth Bhatia

Pamela Beth Bhatia is an international award-winning photographer who has traveled to sixteen countries to tell stories through images. After serving as a missionary leader and photographer in Central and South America, as Executive Director of the American Heart Association, director United States Chamber of Commerce Dubai, she founded a commercial imaging studio in Rhode Island, Artistic Images. Bhatia is a speaker, drone pilot, wandering globetrotter, and mom. Pamela is a visual catalyst and her purpose and passion is capturing the world around her through her lens and through her stories.

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Finding

LIGHT

A mother’s journey to India and

the light that led her home

PAMELA BETH BHATIA

Copyright © 2022 Pamela Beth Bhatia.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical,

including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written

permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make

no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some

cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

LifeRich Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.liferichpublishing.com

844-686-9607

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed

since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do

not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Mathew 10:16, John 1:5

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4329-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4328-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4330-5 (e)

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 11/02/2022

Tejas & Kamran …

I love you more than all the Christmas trees in the

world. My greatest blessing is being your mom.

Manish….

The perfect dad for our two boys. Thank you for the journey.

I am grateful for everyone I have met in this temporary assignment

called life. The experiences and memories that have written

the chapters in my life. My story. I hope it helps you, inspires

you and you see some of your own story in these pages

Edited by Aishwarya Kanchan

Contents

CHAPTER 1     ZERO DARK THIRTY

CHAPTER 2     MY HAIL MARY

CHAPTER 3     THE CITY OF DREAMS

CHAPTER 4     HORN OK PLEASE

CHAPTER 5     TIME FOR SCHOOL

CHAPTER 6     MANISHA

CHAPTER 7     THE PEACOCK WHISPERER

CHAPTER 8     I MISS MY VILLAGE

CHAPTER 9     DHARAVI

CHAPTER 10   SOX

CHAPTER 11   TEJAS ROBERT BHATIA, MY FAVORITE OLDEST SON.

CHAPTER 12   THE CHICKEN TAMPON STORE

CHAPTER 13   FAIL FORWARD, FAIL FASTER

CHAPTER 14   HOLY COW

CHAPTER 15   SHOOTING A KIDNAPPER

CHAPTER 16   KAMRAN VIJAY BHATIA, MY FAVORITE YOUNGEST SON

CHAPTER 17   AM I WHO I BELIEVE I AM?

CHAPTER 18   MEET MY NEW FRIEND, HER NAME IS WINE.

CHAPTER 19   APRIL 16TH

CHAPTER 20   THANK YOU FOR KILLING OSAMA BIN LADIN

CHAPTER 21   THE POWER OF DECISIONS

CHAPTER 22   SIX SUITCASES

CHAPTER 23   LOOK MOM, GRASS

CHAPTER 1

Zero Dark Thirty

A strong woman knows she has strength enough for the journey, but a woman

of strength knows it is in the journey where she will become strong.

—Luke Easter

I stood by the front door waiting for the call that the car arrived to bring us to the airport. My heart threatened to break my ribs as it hammered hard against them with anxiety. Unable to stand in one place anymore, I started pacing, waiting for the doorbell to pierce the silence. After what felt like an eternity, I heard a loud knock. It was an hour until midnight. My stomach lurched and my heart pounded even faster. I fumbled at the locks, trying to open the door as fast as I could. The boys and I were booked on a flight in four hours, and my mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions. I had thought of every possible bad situation that could happen and was finding it extremely hard not to break down.

Last week, the news broke of Osama Bin Laden being killed by US Special Forces. News channels had broadcasted the infiltration and assassination of one of the world’s biggest terrorists every day since. It was all anyone was talking about! From young kids to the elderly, the topic was on everyone’s lips. Conspiracy theories filled the air as people debated whether a retaliation of the same level was to be expected. The air was dense with fear and anticipation as people worried about Muslim groups acting out and creating chaos. With a few hours to go, I could not afford to be side-tracked and miss our flight to the States.

When I made the decision to leave, I knew that it would be a strenuous process. I gathered every ounce of strength and courage I had and decided it was the right path. I packed only the essentials, taking things that were either sentimental or other important items like my camera gear and clothes. Fortunately, the flight we booked allowed two suitcases per passenger and three carry-ons. Due to the generous luggage allowance, I was able to pack a few extra items in addition to my purse. Weeks earlier I had pulled out six suitcases and spread them across the room, making mental lists of which item would go where. Out of our six suitcases, I had given the kids one suitcase each for their toys and the things they wanted to bring back to the United States. Two were packed full of our clothing, one was for my laptop and photographic equipment, and the last was packed with the kids’ baby books, keepsake Christmas ornaments, and other precious memories that came with us when we moved to India. As I looked at our luggage, I recalled the day when the moving company had delivered the 120 boxes after we arrived in India and couldn’t help but laugh. And here we were, all dressed in sweats and sneakers to get us through our twenty-two-hour journey back to the States, and everything we can’t live without now fits in six suitcases three carry-ons and my arms.

I finally managed to open the door. Wiping the sweat on my palms, Manish greeted the driver and helper. None of the terrible scenarios I had imagined had happened … yet. I pushed the feelings of doubt aside and tried focusing on the present. Everything was on schedule. The driver and helper entered the apartment and loaded up our suitcases into the lift on the eighteenth floor and down to the car. I held back a small choke and tear as the boys hugged Sox with tears in their eyes as they said goodbye to him and our India home. The four of us made our way to the lift. My two boys, Tejas and Kamran, were eleven years and eight years old, respectively. At this time, they were usually fast asleep. But owing to the circumstances, their eyes were devoid of any traces of sleep. I turned away to make sure that everything was packed and returned to see them chat with brightly lit eyes.

The drive to the airport was littered with roadblocks and bomb threats, which had many streets shut down all around. Tejas sat on Manish and hugged him close while Kamran snuggled in mine. I took another look at our passports and tried to relax in the dark as we made the drive. The constant beep of horns and buzz of the mopeds surrounded us as the driver slowly weaved his way through. Traffic was less than normal on our way to the airport, as it was the middle of the night. The crowd of people at night was equivalent to the number of people one might see on a busy Saturday afternoon in New York. The driver weaved through the traffic effortlessly, and we arrived at Mumbai Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport much sooner than I had anticipated.

I got out of the vehicle and asked the boys to stand beside the carry-ons. My eyes darted all around with worry as Manish and the drivers loaded our luggage onto the pushcart for us to begin this leg of our journey. The US embassy had cautioned American citizens and asked them to be on alert after the killing of Bin Laden. I was already drowning in worries and the added concern of facing unhappy protestors and supporters of Bin Laden was putting me over the edge. Tejas and Kam’s brown skin disguised their American roots while mine did the opposite. However, I had to stay strong for my boys. Manish helped us check in and to the security gate where we had to say goodbye to him. It was a sleepy goodbye from both boys. There were tears of sadness, because they wouldn’t see their dad for a while, and a bit of excitement to get back to friends, family, and life in the United States.

While I pushed my bags past the first security check at the entrance of the airport, I took one final look at the city I was going to leave behind. Until the flight wheels were up and we were in the air, I wouldn’t be able to breathe easily. I had switched our round trip summer vacation tickets for three one-way tickets from Mumbai to Boston. I had only told Manish a week or so back that we wouldn’t return. I couldn’t take the chance of Manish’s family knowing that we weren’t returning. Was there a possibility that they would try and convince him to stop us? I didn’t know and wasn’t familiar with the laws there. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. Would we be stuck there? Or would I have to leave while he’d get to keep the boys with him? Leaving like this was my only option under such circumstances, yet we were still ages away from being in the air.

The boys hugged Manish goodbye one last time before we made our way to customs. Once there, we saw that there were two separate queues—one for men and one for women. I could feel my heart in my throat, realizing that for this last leg of our departure from India I was going to be separated from my boys. Even though it was only for a few moments, I was terrified. I gave my eldest son, Tejas, instructions to hold onto his little brother’s hand and not to let go no matter what. I then made my way to the queue for the women passengers.

Standing in line, I saw women from multiple cultural backgrounds. Some of them wore traditional clothes, while others had jeans and sweatshirts on. The mix of cultures always took my breath away, but this time I was distracted and could not appreciate it to the extent that I usually would. I could subconsciously make out a few words here and there in English, but I was constantly thinking about whether my boys were all right. I was swinging back and forth on my feet trying to look over the black glass divider that separated the two queues. I finally caught a glimpse of them and noticed that they were a little ahead of me in their queue. I let out a sigh of relief and continued to look at them as I inched ahead in the queue. At one point, I lost sight of them again and held my breath, eagerly waiting to get through the scanners and then the pat down so that I could finally rejoin them.

The process was quick and smooth. I was soon on the other side with my carry-on waiting for them. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as I shuffled from one side to the other trying to see whether they were done with the security check. My thoughts darkened as my eyes darted around desperately looking for them. Did I