Return Ticket

The unspoken idea is that what is good enough for adults is not good enough for children. ‘‘I didn’t want my son to grow up in that culture,’’ says Aneesh Chinubhai, 33, who stayed on in the US after his MS, and worked in the automobile and insurance industries for five-odd years. ‘‘Once our son was born, we decided to leave before he got used to life there,’’ adds Chaitali, his wife.

That was the fear that drove Naresh Sharma, 59, all his life. Having migrated to the UK in 1976, the year his first daughter was born, Sharma greeted the birth of each of his three successive daughters with trepidation. ‘‘Children grow up too soon there, start earning, and make independent decisions very early in life,’’ says Sharma. So he packed off his four daughters and wife to India in 1990, took premature retirement from the British Postal Service and followed seven years later. Ironically, his eldest daughter—all of them have British passports—is set to return to the UK after marriage.

Far less conservative than Sharma, Vinita Vijayaraghavan, 45, and her banker husband Badri, who lived in the US for 11 years, too appreciate the fact that their ex-NRI status confers a unique gift to their children once they come of age. ‘‘I wanted to give my kids the freedom to choose between living in either country,’’ says Chennai-based Vinita, who worked as a graphic designer in the US book publishing industry.

Unknowingly, that was the choice Jagpal Singh Khangura conferred on his sons, Jasse and Satti, when he migrated to the UK from his village in Punjab way back in 1963. The family went on to establish a successful chain of hotels. And when Jasse joined the family business and considered expansion, where would he look, but to India.

‘‘We visited India at least three times a year, and in 1987, my father bought a house in Ludhiana,’’ explains Jasse, 40. ‘‘That was when I considered launching a hotel here.’’ The Majestic Park Plaza is arguably the best in Ludhiana. Jasse flits in and out of the country up to 16 times a year, and is looking to the completion of his daughter’s education in the UK before shifting base for good.

‘‘NRIs tend to complain that nothing works in India, the bureaucracy is corrupt, there are a million problems,’’ says Jasse. ‘‘But I tell them that one has to adapt to the ways of the country where one wants to do business. Try operating in Ghana or Brazil and you’ll face a different set of problems.’’

Despite the million problems, Harish Narsappa, 29, is another person who came back. “I missed the idea of India,” he says. Narasappa spent four years practicing corporate law in Oxford. “I love the confusion, the contrasts, the constant debate over everything, how nothing is settled—the UK was staid in comparison, so much less exciting and real.”

BUT Jasse is clear that though the tug of ‘home’ was strong, he wouldn’t have considered setting up a hotel here if it didn’t make business sense. He’s not the only one. While family has always played a major role in the lives of returning NRIs, among the younger lot it is India’s potential as an economic powerhouse that matters most.

‘‘While practising corporate law in Oxford, I travelled around the world closing huge deals, which was fun,’’ says Narasappa. ‘‘Today, as part of the mergers and acquisitions department of the Mumbai-based Pathak and Associates law firm, I have the opportunity to clinch similar deals in India, which is immensely exciting.’’

Ditto for Rajiv Hiranandani, 33. ‘‘I was sure my MBA from the University of Hartford would work to my advantage,’’ says the marketing professional. ‘‘Immediately on my return, I was in charge of Yahoo’s Indian sales division; now I head the local operations for a Chinese wireless agency. I would have never been able to rise this fast in the US.’’

The changed security concerns post-9/11 is yet another reason why the expat is homeward bound. ‘‘Work visas and jobs have become increasingly difficult to come by,’’ admits Nitin Jain, a 30-year-old investment banker who has just returned to New Delhi after two years in the US. ‘‘Osama shattered two myths about the US: its invincibility and its ‘strong’ economy.’’

Though there are no all-India figures for returning NRIs, the experience of Anuraj Sandhu, 37, shows that they have done little to discourage ever-new waves of migrants. His Chandigarh-based immigration and education consultancy is instrumental in sending off around 1,000 people annually. An ex-NRI himself, he is the first to appreciate the irony of what he does.
‘‘I emigrated to Canada in 1992 after unrest in the Kashmir Valley ruined an engineering project I had launched there. But during occasional visits home, I gauged there was immense curiosity—and ignorance—about the immigration process.

Eventually, in 1997, I returned to launch my consultancy in the country I thought I had left forever,’’ says Anuraj. ‘‘Over these six years, my faith in the opportunities India offers has been more than vindicated.’’

THE change is apparent even in attitudes. ‘‘When I left India to study design in New York, I was labelled a darzi,’’ says Abhita Babel, in her late 20s. ‘‘When I came back after a two-year stint with Tommy Hilfiger, I was accepted as
a designer. Though setting
up shop in New Delhi wasn’t easy, it was certainly a cakewalk compared to breaking into the New York fashion world.’’

Neurosurgeon Rajendra Prasad has a different perspective on fitting in. ‘‘I worked all over the UK for eight years before returning to India,’’ says the 50-year-old. ‘‘But after three years, in 1990, I realised there was no way I could balance my professional and personal lives here. I was working in three hospitals, travelling 100 km a day and had rented accommodation. I didn’t think it was worth it. So I decided to go back to the UK for good.’’

Six years later however, when Apollo Hospitals approached him to join their neurosurgery department as a consultant, Prasad came back to a recognisably different country. ‘‘The hospital offered state-of-the-art facilities. Working in New Delhi is as professionally satisfying now as working anywhere else in the world. And the fact that I no longer have to stand in queues to pay my telephone and electricity bills makes life much easier.’’

If the potholes and the power problems hit the ex-NRI in the solar plexus, it is the mobile revolution and easy Net-connectivity that leave him gasping. ‘‘Even bus conductors and peons carry cellphones,’’ exclaims Nitin. ‘‘I remember a time when even opening a bank account was a headache. Now bank officials come home, and you never need meet them again if you use the Net or the ATM,’’ marvels Naresh Sharma.

The easy availability of the international experience in everything from cable television to cat food, increasing privatisation (and consequent accountability) in the essential services combined with the strength of dollar savings make the home country a very attractive proposition. ‘‘A family that is middle-class in the US or Canada is upgraded to upper-middle-class in India,’’ points out Anuraj. ‘‘Living in India has its monetary advantages.’’
That is not to say, of course, that India offers no challenges at all to the returning NRI. ‘‘It took us three-four years to settle back in,’’ says Jhumkee Iyengar. ‘‘The biggest problems were the daily hassles like power cuts and limited water supply. I also faced a huge problem with daycare.’’

Sharma has hair-raising stories to tell about mechanics who pilfer car parts, postal employees who nick high-denomination stamps, low-rung babus who demand a sifarish for the smallest jobs. But he has learnt to work around them, just as Jhumkee has coped with domestic hassles. The problems aren’t new, most of today’s ex-NRIs experienced them as children or young adults. But the positives are. And for the time being, they are enough to keep wanderlust at bay.

By Anurita Rathore/Ahmedabad, Amit Chaudhary/Chandigarh,
Nimrit Gill/Ludhiana, Che Kurrien/Mumbai, Astha Gupta/New Delhi and Preeti Raghunathan/Pune