The Lady who tamed the ‘Savage Dog’

This is the story of a noble woman who braved her ailment and lived to see the lives of her husband and her daughter redeemed in the manner she devoutly wished. She spread sunshine all around her and made good many friends and admirers in that very redemption process.

It was at a small business exhibition that I met her. Only a few weeks before had I taken charge as the chief of a small-business financing institution in the State. My illustrious predecessor, who was still around as the chief of the parent organization, had introduced me to several bigwigs in the State. During that honeymoon period I could meet many an industrialist and businessperson in the city and beyond, address several of their associations and spend time with them responding to their concerns. This lady said she was present at one or two such meetings and she tells me now that I had answered her questions to her full satisfaction at those meetings. So she was happy to see me live at her stall at the exhibition.

Noticing her apparent eagerness to continue the conversation with me, my friend discreetly moved away. She went into the details of her business, her export activities, the financial aspects of the business and its future prospects as she saw them. The business seemed to be in a reasonably healthy condition. And it was obvious that she was personally involved in the nitty-gritty of the business with much passion. Although the content of the conversation was limited to her business activities, yet at the same time it was manifest that she had the expansive mind of an extrovert and was looking for agreeable kind of persons with whom she could share her mind. After courteously accepting her hospitality I left her to join my colleague.

She impressed me as a bubbly and self-confident person, a free-flowing personality, and didn’t give any hint at that time about the trials she was facing in her family life.

A couple of days later I received a phone call from her seeking an appointment. She didn’t reveal the purpose, nor did I ask. In my position I received visitors routinely; some came for loans, some for consultation, some to seek extra time for repayment, some seeking an empathetic ear to listen to the tales of their ailing business. After briefly listening to them as courtesy demanded, I would direct most of them to the officials concerned who had the power and authority to deal with such cases. As a result, the guests whom I directly entertained came to be mostly those having serious problems in their business. Even those who encountered non-financial problems came to see me after listening to my public speeches, and I soon got used to giving them a patient ear. The motto of our newly set-up institution was: ‘Let the customer leave our premises empty-handed, but never empty-hearted’. As a result I could only leave the office much late most of the evenings.

Mrs. Sucheta Sadarangani came in at the appointed time. She was in her bubbly self and appeared totally relaxed. And I got the impression she had the natural aura which made anyone who came across her equally relaxed. As the one who initiated the meeting she was expected to bring up the topic for discussion. But she went on flitting from one topic to another with the ease of an acrobat and without causing any confusion or discomfort to her partner in conversation. Nearly half an hour had gone by when my Secretary announced the arrival of the next visitor thus breaking our conversation. And, although she was yet to disclose the purpose of her visit, yet she got up gracefully and left. This I felt rather odd. If anyone sought a social call in the Office, I didn’t encourage more than brief courtesy calls.

She called me again on phone a week later. Another meeting was arranged. This time she came in with her daughter. The youngster, in late teens, was introduced to me as her successor in business. “Isn’t it rather early to make succession plans?” I wondered. Her answer was a firm No: “One doesn’t know these days what can happen tomorrow”, she said with a casual air. This meeting too proceeded as a social conversation and lasted about half an hour. I was not exactly bored but was curious to know what was in her mind. Was she exploring me, evaluating me, assessing me with her deceptively innocent eyes before disclosing her purpose? I didn’t have to wait for more than a week for the enigma to be solved.

Her husband an alcoholic

She called me on phone and said she wanted to apologize for having taken my time twice without disclosing the purpose. “I was simply scared and was uncertain as to how you would react. Last time I took my daughter along in order to muster some courage. But, no. I guess it was my fear of failure and consequent embarrassment. Now I can speak boldly without seeing you face to face….”

Curiosity took over me, and I encouraged her to continue. “Sir, it is all about my husband. And I need your help.” Puzzled, I asked her to explain.

After a pause she began with some constraint in her voice. “I am ashamed to own up that my husband is an alcoholic. He has been showing for long clear symptoms of alcoholism; but we kept it to ourselves for fear of social stigma. It has affected his physical and mental health; it has affected his social life; and it has affected our family. His nervous disorder is showing in his arms and legs and in his speech. His hands are shaking all the time. And he is violent at home.  He attacks me in his bad moods. He was a well-regarded man; but now he is not welcome even in our family circles. Last Diwali season he hit my father with his golf club when he admonished him for his uncontrolled drinking.”

“Did you make a mistake by keeping things under wraps” I responded. “Alcoholism is a disease to be treated at the first instance itself without wasting time by depending on such silly home remedies as hiding the bottles from the patient and so on. That kind of imposed discipline particularly from one’s wife could add to the patient’s resentment and make his longing for alcohol even more irresistible.”

“Yes, Sir. That is precisely what happened. But my concern was my daughter Rita. She is nineteen now. You have seen her. Her marriage prospects could be compromised with a known alcoholic father around.”

“Yes, I see your concern and anxiety for her.”

“My father has been advising - nay, insisting, that I must divorce him for my sake as also for my daughter’s sake. But I could not bring myself to such a drastic step. After all, he is the father of my daughter. A divorce in the family could mean she becomes an orphan, especially if something happens to me after the divorce. I can’t imagine me being an instrument in inflicting a permanent wound on her psyche. So, divorce was out of question. Then father insisted, especially after my husband hit him, that he should be admitted to the mental hospital for treatment. So he was forcibly taken to the hospital. The doctor said he was in an advanced stage of alcoholism, and scolded me for delaying his hospitalization….”

“Is he still in the hospital?”

“Yes; he has been an inpatient for the past three months. Initially when alcohol was withdrawn from him, he had hallucinations, seizures and shakes. That was frightening. And we were shocked to hear the doctor saying these kinds of symptoms had led in some rare cases to even heart attacks. They served him sedatives like valium to counter his alcohol withdrawal syndrome. His convulsions continued for some three weeks. No more any convulsions now, but he has been incommunicado for weeks. His dependence on sedatives will continue….”

“What are the doctor’s plans in his efforts at bringing him back to normal life?” I asked to break her pause.

“Well, they are trying occupational therapy on him. Group therapy has been found successful in good many similar cases, they say. But my husband is not responding. He doesn’t get into it. It is heartbreaking to see him lonely in the group…. And here is the importance of supplementing it with one-to-one socialization. The objective is to draw him out through interaction with individuals who have the patience and empathy to engage him in conversation.”

“But, Madam Sadarangani, didn’t you say that he has been incommunicado for weeks now? How does the doctor propose engaging him in conversation?”

“Well, first of all, please call me Sucheta. Now, to answer your question, here is the plan the doctor has proposed. He says the patient would have complexes about persons familiar to him and with those who he thinks may be aware of his shameful background. To him they would appear judgmental and patronizing in their attitude to him. So, we must identify suitable persons, whom he could trust. They should be persons who respect him as an individual and esteem him as a decent person.”

“By the way, are you coming to propose me for that task? …. Well, I’m only joking.”

“Sir, you have preempted me. Certainly you are not joking. But, let me acquaint you with what has already been attempted in this direction. Now, to identify such gentle and patient characters who would find time to help us in this task has in itself been a big task. My friend Manjula eventually suggested the name of her psychology professor. I was introduced to him, and the professor with his wide experience and magnanimous attitude appealed to me too as an ideal person for the task. The Doctor thought so too. I took my husband to his residence, and we had a one-hour session with him. Sunil sat there with his stony face. Professor Rao tried his best to draw him out. But no response from him. That evening I contacted the professor on phone. He encouraged me to persist. He was ready to receive him for a second session a couple of days later. But my husband was reluctant. And the professor advised patience. Nothing should be forced on him. And he suggested exposing him to other suitable persons as well. Also, not to give up hope on group therapy.”

“Could you find other suitable persons as suggested by the professor?” I interjected.

“Yes; we were fortunate enough in getting the services of one Fr Mascarenhas, a Bombay-based Catholic priest, now on a sabbatical visit to the City. He was introduced to us by the Doctor himself as a counselor of repute for alcoholics. I took my husband to him, and the Reverend Father tried for full one hour to engage him in conversation. The priest impressed me with his gentle disposition, understanding and persistence. Still, Sunil did not open up. So, that too ended in a monologue. Later, during the telephone conversation we had, the good Rev Fr endorsed the Doctor’s action plan and encouraged me to continue the patient’s exposure to different individuals. The important thing, he said, was trust. The patient must trust his interlocutor as a disinterested person, one who values him as a worthy individual, one who accepts him as he is. And he assured me that the exposures he already had with Prof Rao and himself would never go waste; such visits would have a cumulative effect on the patient. And one day he would relax and his tongue would loosen.”

“Your persistence is something to be admired”, I said.

“But you see, Sir, this is the least I must do for the sake of my daughter. My father is even now after me putting pressure on me for a legal separation from my husband. Once he actually made me sign a divorce notice. I realized the horror the next moment and snatched it from his hands and tore it off. Moreover, one’s life is always at risk. If something happens to me, I want my daughter to be taken care of by her father and not by my father. Don’t you see the rationale? And I do have enough hope my husband would come back to normal life.”

Now I saw the situation in clearer perspective. Sucheta Sadarangani was bent upon bringing her husband back to normal life not only for her sake or for his sake but, equally important, for the future of her teenage daughter. And I suspected she had a lurking apprehension about the uncertainty of her own life. By chance, was she suffering from any illness herself? Not likely. She appeared to be in good health, and she had a sparkling mind too. So it was all the anxiety of a committed mother, who was handicapped by an alcoholic partner.

 She continued, “I had identified you as one of the right persons for him to socialize with on the day I saw you at the industry association meeting. You handled tough issues at the meeting delicately with ease and with a rare presence of mind. After that I had been seriously entertaining the thought of seeking your help for my husband. In the meantime, we had arranged meetings with two more persons: my old classmate Gita and consulting psychologist Dr Sudarshan. Gita is now serving at the Management Institute as a behavioural scientist. Dr Sudarshan is a known psychologist in the City…. You would come to know of them as you get into the new environment here. Both of them were quite friendly and understanding in their attempted conversation with my husband. Still he has not come out of his shell.”

“Madam, I’ll be only too happy to be of assistance to a determined wife and mother like you,” I agreed.

“Sir, I am so happy I feel like bringing him to you straightaway. But the hospital will not let him out of their campus except during 10 AM to 5 PM on any day. So, you may suggest the time that would suit you. How about next Sunday, at your residence? You may allot an hour for him in the relaxed atmosphere of your residence. I shall bring our daughter also with us.”

I preferred my office, and allotted 30 minutes for the chat. She sounded somewhat taken aback but accepted my terms.

My first encounter with him

The next day the Sadarangani family visited me at my office at the appointed time. I received them cordially as a bank official would normally receive respectable business persons and high net worth customers. The first thing I noticed was that the unfortunate man had a scary, savage look especially with his eyes protruding. His body was thin and frail, his face narrow, his cheeks hollow and his skin sallow.  One could not fail to take notice of his shaking hands and fingers. Frankly I felt sick and vaguely scared. Clearly, Sucheta had understated to me the sad state of the man. It was also clear to me by then that only a truly committed wife and mother could care so much about the shadow of a man like him.

It occurred to me on the spur of the moment that the best way for me to handle him was to have a role play. I was the banker and he a prospective customer. The mother and the daughter were his junior partners. He was seated opposite to me as the chief of the team, and my conversation was directed toward him. So, I began with a few words of normal courtesy. He didn’t respond in any manner. There was hatred in his stony eyes. To him, apparently, I was one of his several detractors who had similarly tried to engage him in conversation. He never even for a moment took his eyes off me to turn to his wife or to his daughter. Was there some kind of evil magician in him trying to hypnotize me with his steady staring?

I now tried to divert his attention to his flourishing business, and congratulated him for the firm’s sound financial health and its prosperity. No response from him. His wife responded on his behalf. And I reacted to her as if responding to him, all the time addressing him and softly looking at him, care being taken not to give him the slightest suspicion that I preferred her as my conversation partner. His daughter too was encouraging me with appropriate comments and observations here and there, so that my ‘business conversation’ with him would flow. Sunil Sadarangani’s baleful eyes were unblinking throughout the half-hour chat, and I felt my energy draining as if sucked off through the pair of those two black holes on his face.

It seemed a day for me when that half-hour interface ended thanks to my Secretary Dolphie who announced the arrival of the next visitor.

That evening I mentally went through the operation of the day. The man was an alcoholic. Under force he was admitted to the hospital. There alcohol was withdrawn from him, and he suffered violent withdrawal symptoms. Now he is under strong sedation on round-the-clock basis, and is obediently moving like a zombie. He had been undergoing group therapy and meeting ‘counselors’ like me under the spell of sedation and not on free will. No wonder he sat with me with a blank face and with eyes reflecting hate. What advantage is there in putting him through such harassment!

The man reminded me of the Savage Dog in the story of the same title that I had read a long time ago in the Readers’ Digest. The author passes by a lone farm house along an old country road of the late 19^th century America and stops there for water for himself and for his horses. There was none at the farm house or anywhere near except for a ferocious dog of the mastiff breed of tremendous size straining powerfully against its heavy chain to reach at him. The dog’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on the intruder, wanting to kill. Slowly the dog lover approaches him, talking to him all the while in low, friendly tones. It takes some fifteen minutes of maneuvering for him to slowly advance towards the dog. There he stops, and mumbles with him in a friendly way, and eventually the author sees a faint light of friendliness flickering in his eyes and his tail moving in tentative delight. In a few minutes his eyes were full with unconditional trust and his tail was wagging vigorously. And, after establishing that accidental friendship, it was with a heavy heart that the author leaves him there to loneliness and continues on his way.

But then that lonely dog was far better placed to socialize than our man who was under sedation. The sedated Sunil was not fully in charge of himself. The dog, although savage, had a mind of his own. But the man didn’t have it. Under the circumstances, I wondered how his Doctor expected results from the kind of social therapy as planned by him! Almost impossible, I thought.

My reverie was broken as the phone rang. It was Sucheta. She sounded jubilant. She surprised me by telling me that my interview of her husband went very well. “How come?” I asked in confusion.

“Well, you took a line quite different from those adopted by professional experts. You never gave him the hint you were dealing with a sick person. He was given all the courtesies due to a business guest. You treated him an equal. And he seemed happy. Never since his treatment began had he shown even the faintest sense of comfort as he showed now. When I asked him if he would like to meet you again, he nodded positively.”

“Let us not be overenthusiastic”, I suggested. “Today if he showed some response, it must be the cumulative effect of his therapy over the past few months. I shall certainly have another chat with him sometime later. Meanwhile he may have interface with a few other competent persons also.”

She said she would introduce him to a few other persons already identified by her, and also take him to those whom he had already met. “But, why not we meet at your residence, Sir, on a Sunday? You’ll be relaxed without the pressure of office work and your business visitors?”

I said, “Madam, the Office would reassure him that he is on an official visit. A discussion at home might cause him suspicion about the intent of the visit. After all we are not family friends as yet. In the circumstances, if he is brought to my residence, he would sense the purpose. In the office I would discuss with him only about his firm and business. Why not come there with a dummy loan application? We’ll discuss it there. And I promise to treat him as the respected chief of the business house. You understand?”

She understood. I added, “And never invite me to your residence either, until your husband has come back to normal and he is absolutely comfortable with me.”

A couple of weeks later we had a meeting in my office. His savage look was as if engraved on his face and it was clear it would persist for long. The frightening aspects were very much there. Ignoring these, the meeting was held strictly as a business meeting. My conversation was directly with him, although the response came from his wife as also from his daughter. And I complimented the family’s business performance under his guidance. While leaving, did his face show a flicker of a smile? Perhaps I fancied.

The feedback I received that evening from the lady was quite positive. I strongly seconded the Doctor’s advice to persist in the group therapy and personal socialization. I also added that his connections need to be widened instead of limiting them with some limited number of chosen persons. She appreciated the suggestions and enthusiastically affirmed positive action.

A memorable dinner party

A month passed. Two of my friends from my native place visited the City for attending a seminar and presenting their papers. One of them, Dr. Annamma Abraham, was once my college mate and now a reputed social psychologist. As a young lady, she had made me wiser in the ways of dealing with women. She said the path to a woman’s heart was certainly not through her head. Women would be put off by men who would seek to impress them with a display of their cerebral endowments. So, never talk history and philosophy to a woman if your intention is to make friends with her.

“Then what is the right path?”

“There is no right path, stupid…. But, if you want to know more about it, a woman always values heart-to-heart relationships. She wants to see in you a warm-hearted friend and not a confused intellectual. Is that difficult for you to appreciate?”

Later, when she took up social psychology as her profession, I complimented her for choosing the field that befitted her temperament most.

That was years ago.

Now Annamma is in the City, and her husband Dr. Abraham had accompanied her. He was a cardiologist.

The other friend, Dr. Thomas Varghese, was a pediatrician, and his wife Mary a socialite noted for her boldness, charm and wit.

They stayed back for an additional day as my guest.

During the chitchat we had that Saturday evening I briefly shared with them my experiences in my new assignment and casually referred to the case of Sunil Sadarangani as a strange assignment for a banker. I might have sounded somewhat apologetic in mentioning about my unskilled and unmerited role in counseling an alcoholic. Dr Annamma intervened to reassure me that social psychology and counseling had not yet developed as a science as such, and amateur practitioners had succeeded where learned professionals had failed. Application was more important than textbooks and theories. A case of art prevailing over science. The counselor’s maturity, understanding and charisma were important. But it was also a fact that an amateur counselor was most often a grave risk to the patient.

All of a sudden, Mary broke her silence and wondered why not we invite the Sadarangani family to join us for the dinner proposed for the evening? As a professional, Annamma enthusiastically supported the proposal. Their men nodded their agreement. I immediately rang up Sucheta and confided to her the details of the proposal. She sounded overjoyed. She said she would bring him to the dinner party with the special permission of the rehabilitation centre at the hospital.

That evening we had dinner together. The Sadaranganis – the three of them – would join us half an hour later as previously planned. Meanwhile, we had our strategy worked out. The gents would treat Sunil as an equal, as the head of a business house. The ladies would chitchat among themselves, all the while keeping a furtive eye on Sunil. Whenever occasion warranted, they would intervene by applying some charm offensive in moderation.

The dinner meeting progressed well. Sunil Sadarangani seemed to enjoy the mature attention he was receiving from everyone. At one stage Mary made commended him on his smart looks. I saw him smiling for the first time. Annamma was closely observing him all the while. Dr Thomas Varghese regretted that since Rita Sadarangani was in her late teens she had gone out of his range as a pediatrician. Cardiologist Abraham did not forget to make his contribution. He commended Sunil Sadarangani for having a stout heart. “How do you know it, Sir?” asked Sucheta. “Well, from appearance…. But, in the unlikely event of his needing my help anytime, it is available.” That was his way of telling him he could be a heart patient.

The doctor couples handed their cards to him and cordially invited the family to visit them in Kerala to spend a holiday with them. And at the end of the dinner, we saw a self-satisfied and self-important Sunil walking in step with his wife, followed by their daughter.

The psychologist Annamma was full of praise for Sucheta Sadarangani for her commitment as a wife and as a mother, as also for her resourcefulness. “I am sure, with a wife like her, he would be well sooner than later… And I’ll be in touch with her, as a well-wisher as also as a professional.”

Mary agreed with my earlier observation that the man had a savage, depraved look with his eyes exuding hate.

“But you saw him after his looks had progressively mellowed since the commencement of his social therapy”, I said.

Her husband Dr Thomas Varghese commented, “And you made him smile with your encouraging comment …. I only hope that he does not fall in love with you now”.

“No chance, with his wife around him all the time…. And, certainly he is not a Thomas Varghese”, she shot back.

Late in the evening, Sucheta Sadarangani spoke to me. She was exuberant. It was for the first time ever after the treatment began that her husband smiled. And the interesting thing was that the joyful mood he had imbibed at the dinner had lingered on his face at least until he was back at the rehabilitation centre.

Discharged from the hospital

Over the next one month steady progress was reported in the patient’s condition. The Doctor was confident he could be discharged sooner than expected. His wife’s manifest commitment to his cure and her demonstrated ability to personally look after him had encouraged the Doctor to discharge him early. Sucheta would maintain conducive atmosphere at home for his convalescence.  

After his discharge from the hospital too, the family took care to keep me and the others concerned informed about the progress in the patient’s conditions. Often it was the mother who spoke to me, and sometimes the daughter also. Once I heard Sunil on the phone. He happily recalled our dinner party and enquired about Mary Varghese who had flattered him about his smart looks. Sucheta told me once or twice she was in touch with Dr. Annamma Abraham who, she said, was taking personal interest in the case.

Then came his birthday. A private party was arranged. The guests were carefully picked from among those who had helped Sunil recover. I met his brother Anil there for the first time. Dr Sudarshan whom I met there impressed me as a remarkable person exuding life at its positive best. Rita the young Sadarangani was active as hostess and gracefully acted as the master of ceremonies.  The birthday boy’s once-savage face was lit up with a kind of ethereal joy and a sense of self-worth.  I’ll never forget the beatific smile on his face that evening. And we were all enveloped in the bliss that the family was experiencing then. Sucheta made a brief, stirring speech expressing her gratitude to those friendly souls who had helped her husband and the family back from near-catastrophe.

After the Birthday Party

And that was the last time I ever saw the Sadaranganis. However, I continued to receive encouraging reports from the family on phone. But increasingly more from Rita than from her mother. Also, the senior lady sounded somewhat less exuberant and less confident these days. It was possible that, with her convalescing husband back home, the lady was busy on the domestic front. It was also likely that she was simultaneously preoccupied with the search for a groom for her daughter Rita who had blossomed into an attractive young lady. Indian mothers’ anxiety for their daughters of marriageable age was quite unsettling in those days of arranged marriages. And in view of the mother’s possible preoccupations within the family, there was nothing unusual in the daughter's increased involvement in the family business and public relations under her mother’s guidance.

I couldn’t see any other reason for Sucheta’s apparently low spirits. However, with hindsight, I have since felt a polite inquiry from me might not have been inappropriate.

Rita’s marriage

My stint in the City turned out to be for a short duration. I got a promotion and had to leave in a hurry for London for a short term assignment there. I briefly called on the Sadaranganis on phone. Sunil was near-normal. His voice had acquired an expression of gratitude; obviously the last vestiges of his savage aspects had disappeared. Sucheta spoke in a somewhat low voice and said she would miss me.  Rita was full of life. She had acquired the vivacity of her mother.

A couple of months into my assignment in London I received a phone call from the young Rita. In a voice ringing with excitement mingled with a tinge of coyness she announced her marriage with a boy named Ahuja. The wedding was scheduled to take place by end of the month. The timing put me to difficulty. My assignment would be concluded in a week after her scheduled wedding date, and a premature departure for me from London was unthinkable.  In the circumstances I wished her all the best and regretted my inability to personally witness her nuptials. And, in my confusion of the moment I forgot to inquire about the well being of her parents.

Back in India, I got posting at New Delhi. In a spirit of challenge and excitement I was beginning to get into the political and bureaucratic culture of the national capital, when the phone rang. It was Rita. She said in an expectant voice that her family, in their full complement, had planned to spend some time in Delhi, and that she and her husband would also visit some hill station in Himachal Pradesh for a week leaving her parents in Delhi. She said they would be in Delhi the subsequent week.

The sad end

There was no message from them during that week. The subsequent week I was on an official tour of my new territory that consisted of seven States around Delhi. Rita called me soon on my return from the tour. There was depression and sadness in her voice. Her mother was hospitalized the day they had planned for their Delhi trip. Her condition was serious – advanced stage of cancer! And she died a week later!

I was shocked. Somehow I found my voice. “But, was there no advance indications?”

“Yes, Uncle. She had been under treatment for cancer for the past two years. But mother was active and moving around energetically for the sake of the family especially because of Dad’s problem. You know, Sir, Dad was a very good man, a very good family man, a loving father, before he got addicted. After her disease was diagnosed, her only mission in life was my Dad’s de-addiction and rehabilitation and my marriage to a worthy boy. And in her committed life during her limited period on earth she didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to her own personal problems; so she did not make her illness public. She was smiling before all of you with pain and anxiety deep within all along. Even you could not detect anything wrong in her physical condition. At my Dad’s birthday party, one guest privately observed she looked somewhat pale. That was Dr Sudarshan. No one else said anything if they noticed. As her illness was progressively worsening, she stayed indoors and I had to take over all her activities.”

“Yes; once or twice I had noticed she was somewhat down in spirits; but didn’t suspect anything seriously wrong with her.”

“She had a sense of fulfillment when her twin mission was brought to a successful conclusion … and when she had no more wish left, she thought of spending some time in Delhi where she had grown up as a girl and had her school education. But she died before that small wish was fulfilled. …. I tried to reach you on phone last week. But you were not out of station....”

“How has your Dad taken to her death? And now that you too are leaving him, he would be alone? And, lonely? And have you thought of the possibility of his relapsing into his old ways?”

“My husband is returning to San Francisco next week. We, both my Dad and I, are planning to follow him later, after getting visa. My uncle Anil has agreed to buy our business at a fair price.”

Sucheta was a brave soldier and a noble one too. She fought her illness to live long enough to see that her husband was brought back to normal life and their only daughter married. May her soul rest in peace.

*                   *                    *

Years later when I visited Bangalore, I made an attempt at contacting Anil Sadarangani on phone to enquire about his brother Sunil and his daughter Rita; but I received an indifferent response. Apparently the business had passed on to some third parties who might have had little regard for the Sadaranganis. I tried to make enquiries with a few others too, to no avail. Bangalore was not their native city. Anil too might have left the place. To me, personally, it was as if the family had descended into anonymity.

But, wherever you are, Sunil and Rita, my best wishes are always there with you. And remember, you owe your present lives to the noble soul Sucheta.

K X M John

19/03/2012