THE IMMIGRANT Read Free Page B

going over the child’s lessons with him, making sure there was no question he could not answer, and the son justified this attention by winning scholarships every year. He had to be something responsible, respectable, solvent and being a doctor fit the bill. In class XII he had school in the morning, coaching classes for medical entrance exams in the afternoon and homework at night. But though he was a position holder in the science stream in the boards, he didn’t score high enough in those other exams to make it to medical college. It was the first disappointment he had known in anything that had to do with reproducing large amounts of memorised material.
    Dentistry was the alternate option. The medical exam entrance forms had demanded he fill in a second choice and now he was forced to see the bright side of things. He would not have to do night shifts. He would get the same—almost the same—respect as doctors did, the same—almost the same—money, but without the insane hours. With more economy and a bank loan, he could set up private practice in Dehradun. The career of a dentist uncle in Canada was painted in glowing colours. Who knew, his future too might convey him across the globe. But for the moment, a stretchable moment, he belonged to his parents.
    Dental courses ran on quotas. Ananda was from UP, so for him the obvious choice was the dental wing of King George’s Hospital in Lucknow. He passed the interview, and for the five years it would take to qualify he shuttled between Dehradun and Lucknow.
    From the moment of his birth Ananda had been surrounded by the rituals of his caste. Before he left home, his parents did their best to reinforce the practices of a lifetime. He was a Brahmin, his body must never be polluted by dead flesh. Low caste boys in the college hostel might try and tempt him towards non-veg, cigarettes and alcohol. Should he deviate from the pure habits they had instilled in him, his mother’s heart would break. She assured him of this with her disturbed, devoted gaze.
    Ananda was put in a room with three boys who, including the other Brahmin, all smoked. The air was blue with the haze of constant indulgence. He breathed deeply and smelled liberation.
    From cigarettes he graduated to alcohol. As he moved from first to second to third year at King George’s he found parents allowed their sons a certain autonomy if they were doing well. So, freedom went hand in hand with success. He absorbed this lesson.
    Most of his classmates aimed to go abroad. Were they to labour like donkeys for the measly sums Indian doctors commanded? No, never, not while they had wits to fill in applications and patience to endure the year it took to get admission. They would have to qualify again once they were abroad, borrow money for tuition and living expenses and put in even more years if they wished to specialise, but the eventual reward dwarfed these sacrifices.
    If the love of his parents meant that Ananda’s ultimate destination lay no further than the small town he had lived in all his life, he was son enough to accept this. His parents found him an internship with a reputed dentist in Anstley Hall on Rajpur Road. His future was such a well understood thing between them that discussion was not considered necessary before this was settled.
    Ananda worked with Dr Chandra for two years. His hand was deft, but with patients, strangers after all, his conversation was hesitant, his demeanour bashful. Dr Chandra thought he would gain confidence with time, you can’t be awkward around people’s mouths. Dentists have to be skilled at putting patients at ease, especially since they feel vulnerable as they recline, mouths open, saliva gurgling in tubes stretched across their chins. Each file had to have notes about the client’s profession, background, interests and family, so that small talk could be generated, empathy exhibited.
    Two years later Ananda felt he had learnt enough to be on his own. His parents