Somewhere between New York and Ahmedabad

Onboard Air India

He'd begun fiddling with his magnets the moment they boarded the flight and hadn't stopped since. He'd tried to let go and take a nap, but the weird and sympathizing looks he was getting from his co-passengers was enough for him to understand that this would be one of his lives longest flights.

He was Anuj Kapadia, one of the world's wealthiest businessmen. He'd often graced the cover pages of popular business magazines including Forbes and Inc., had been courted by television channels including appearing as a guest shark on the hit TV show - Shark Tank. Everyone who watched TV knew who he was. And contrary to all that people had read about him over the years, including ogling at the details and pictures of his private jet, he was now seated on a Business Class chair in Air India.

It wasn't his decision. But his friend, philosopher and guide, his parent and guardian, who'd looked after him for the last 20 years had asked for something for the very first time. And business tycoon Anuj Kapadia did not have the heart to deny this man his wish.

Gopichand Karodiya, whom Anuj fondly referred to as GK, had recently suffered a massive stroke. And while his health was on the mend, doctors had advised a trip to India to speed his recovery. "Anuj you're hardly around him anymore," the doctors had told him. "And while you've spared no expense to make his life comfortable, GK is still very lonely."

By the time Anuj could comprehend what the doctors were hinting at, they spelt it out for him.

"Send GK to India. Let him spend some time with his friends and family."

When Anuj looked uncertain, Dr Smith gently laid his hand on Anuj's shoulders. "You're one of our biggest benefactors. I wouldn't dare to invite the ire of our Board of Directors by upsetting you. And yet, I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't believe in it myself."

At 47 years, there was seldom that was denied to Anuj Kapadia. A world-class businessman, with investments in oil, finance, real estate, hotels and retail industries, there was a beeline of people wanting to make his acquaintance, both professionally and personally. And like it is with all successful businessmen, Anuj Kapadia had an aura that clearly warned them not to mess with him. The only person who got away with anything as far as Anuj was concerned was GK.

GK was Anuj's father friend and confidant, a trusted employee who'd stuck with his Dad through thick and thin. Then twenty-two years ago, when Anuj had lost both his parents, GK had turned protector; taking young Anuj under his wings and guiding him to further and expand his father's business. What had started as a small store in Ahmedabad grew into a global retail chain under Anuj's command. The business was soon taken over by a big global retail firm, leaving Anuj both rich and free and eager to try something else.

Anuj shifted his base from Ahmedabad to the USA. The logical reason he gave himself and the world was that he had better opportunities there. The truth was that he had nothing left in Ahmedabad.

Anuj sighed and opened his eyes to look at a peacefully sleeping GK. The sight brought a smile to his face. He was in Houston attending a business conference when he'd heard about GK's stroke. He'd dropped everything and rushed back to New York. Truth be told, he was scared, a feeling that had become alien to him. And so he listened to what the doctor said. Nothing in his life was more important than GK.

He laid his hand on GK's head and gently caressed the few remaining strands of hair. He remembered the joy on GK's face when he'd told him of the upcoming trip to India. How he wished he hadn't given in to GK's ridiculous demands of going only if Anuj accompanied him. He smiled yet again. GK could be persistent if he wanted. He'd worked his emotional blackmail on Anuj until the latter had rescheduled his life for the next six months and decided to accompany GK to India.

But what had really irked Anuj was GK's insistence that they fly a commercial carrier, specifically Air India. "Why?" Anuj rasped, to no avail.

"We left India on Air India," GK had stated as a matter of fact. "And in the last twenty years, we haven't even gone back once."

When Anuj looked at him blankly, he explained: "You've done a lot for the people in Ahmedabad, Anuj - funded schools and hospitals, made donations to charities and projects that have benefited the local community, but you haven't gone back home - not even for a business meeting."

When Anuj still looked unconvinced, GK completed his thoughts. "People always complain that the west changes the ones who end up making it their home. They talk about a disconnect, about an identity gap, about an air of superiority that these NRI's have. And I want to prove them wrong."

"Why, GK, why does it matter so much?"

GK simply shrugged. "I don't know why. But it does matter. If I'm going back, it will be the way I left my country. Otherwise," he turned around and pointed to the luxurious settings of their New York penthouse, "this is good enough for the rest of my life."

It was then that Anuj realized where he'd learnt his tenacity. He could never best the master. And so he'd relented, albeit grudgingly.

As he rearranged his schedule and packed his clothes, he wondered what it would be like. 20 years ago, he'd left India because there was nothing more there for him. He'd lost his parents, he had better business prospects in the States, and Anupama... he brushed that thought aside as soon as it cropped up. She was a happily married woman, with kids, blissfully unaware of the emotions he'd harboured for her. Over the years, he too had learnt to deal maturely with the longing that came with unrequited love.

He remembered his last meeting with her 21 years ago. He'd bumped into her at a local temple. She'd come along with her mother-in-law, a happy glow gracing her aura, her baby bump prominently visible. She'd recognized him then, as the head of the college Cultural Committee and had even introduced him to her mother-in-law. He hadn't liked the woman but the smile on Anupama's face prevented him from saying anything. She'd kept caressing her bump and he somehow knew that this child had a special place in her life. Was it her first, he'd questioned. No, she'd replied. This was her second. He'd smiled, wished her all the best and made his way out. Five months after, he'd left Ahmedabad for good.