James Truslow Adam in his 1931 book Epic of America coined the term American Dream—that dream of a land in which life would be better, richer and fuller for everyone according to ability or achievement. A glance at the present day news on US Visa, with their daily twists, turns and Trumpian tweaks, makes one feel as if it would be a nightmare to land in the US and get worse when trying to find a job. What a fall ye Americans!
However, we encountered a different kind of travail in the 1970s in pursuit of the American Dream. Four of us, friends since school days, passed out of Engineering College, Osmania University, in the early seventies. If lower middle class could be sub-classified further, three of us would fit into the bottom-most rung in those days. Only Manohar was a notch above us, since his father was a government school teacher. As luck would have it, except Manohar, the three of us landed public sector jobs thanks to the Command Economy.
Though initially depressed, he started applying for MS Programmes in the US as was the popular trend among engineers those days. He got an admission in Wisconsin University and was also granted the Visa. The travails began now. With the dollar at around `30, he needed a minimum `30,000 to navigate the college tuition and living expenses. Manohar’s father could mop up `10,000.
We friends were determined to help him embark on the American Dream mission, come what may. We approached the Nizam’s Trust and managed a `5,000 scholarship. There was an enterprising doctor friend Subba Rao who promised `5,000—provided Manohar sends him equivalent dollars for him to book a Bajaj Scooter through the premium dollar channel! Through another contact we got a `10,000 loan approved from Syndicate Bank.
The D-Day arrived but the bank loan did not. Only Dr. Subba Rao could just about save our mission. The Air India Flight was in the evening. We approached the doctor in the early morning. He drove us to his bank and gave us `5,000. We rushed to the RBI for exchanging the rupee to dollars. Without any time to buy essentials, we drove Manohar to the Begumpet airport. As he walked to the aircraft in his slippers waving his hand, it reminded us of a movie adventure—a la Raj Kapoor’s Around the World (1967) in eight dollars. As for us, it was mission accomplished. The money he carried was grossly insufficient. He struggled, took odd jobs, and eventually succeeded. In the long run, he achieved more than the fabled dream.