Lost and Found

During 2013-2014 I worked as a Senior Geologist with an oil company in Brega, a small Mediterranean Sea coastal town in eastern Libya. My job contract was to work on a rotational basis; two months in Brega followed by one month in Ottawa, Canada. I was back home after every two months of work.

Due to the political instability in Libya, it was not always possible to get a plane ticket on a date of my choice and even the route to return to Ottawa was uncertain. It was exceedingly difficult to plan to fly within Libya because flights used to get cancelled without notice anytime. This uncertainty primarily was due to the rivalry among the competing groups of militias for control over regions for oil sources.

On a Friday night I returned home to Ottawa after several connecting flights from Brega-Tripoli-Malta-Rome, and Toronto. It was a long journey, and I had to stop for an overnight stay at hotels in Tripoli and Malta. I was very tired by the time I reached home. After spending some time with my family, I slept.

Next morning on Saturday I woke-up early still tired and began to unpack my suitcase. I had everything except my flash-drive. I began to search for it since it had a lot of files about my unfinished research projects which I had planned to continue working in Ottawa. I need not emphasize how important that little piece of equipment was. I searched for all the possible places but could not find it. But I distinctly remembered that in Brega I had put it in my toilet-case and carried it with me. I spent almost one hour looking for it but could not find. I became very agitated and angry with myself and was alone in my room. Since it was an early Saturday morning, everyone was sleeping in their rooms in our house.

Out of sheer disgust and anger I yelled at Manisha’s photograph on my table and said, “Stop smiling; help me find my flash-drive.” As if she was alive and living with me as my wife.

I still find it hard to believe; at that very moment I realized that I had not checked the laundry basket in which I had dumped all my dirty clothes. You guessed it right; I found my flash-drive in the pocket of my shirt in the laundry basket. I apologetically smiled at her photograph, thanked her for her help and whispered calmly, ‘I’m sorry honey’ and saw a glow in her eyes.

Manisha Ramcharan of San Fernando, Trinidad was my fiancée. We had an over five year-long pen friendship which began in 1970 when I was working as a geologist with Oil & Natural Gas Corporation (ONGC), India’s national oil company in Ahmedabad, and she was a student and lived with her family in San Fernando in Trinidad. By the end of 1972 I went to Michigan State University, USA to pursue my Ph.D. degree. I was on study leave from ONGC. There we continued writing to each other; in that process, when our friendship transformed from a mere friendship to deep emotional attachment, it is difficult to find out. In our letters we exchanged information about ourselves, family, work, sports, a bit of politics, music, and cinema. We were gradually falling in love yet were not aware of it.

In late October and early November 1975, I visited her in Trinidad and celebrated the Hindu festival Diwali with her family. She, her parents, and her brothers showed their love for me and were very friendly. Manisha and her brother took me around this beautiful island Trinidad. I visited their cities, towns, mountains and bathed in the beautiful beaches. Those days were the most enjoyable days of my life. Every day I enjoyed the Indo-Trinidadian cuisine and drank juices of fruits freshly picked from her garden.

The night before my departure from Port-of-Spain, Trinidad to Miami, Florida, on my way back to East Lansing, Michigan, Manisha, and I had some very romantic and emotional talk. We decided to marry without the prior permission of our parents. However, when we informed our parents, they were happy and agreed for our marriage. After my Ph.D. I had to come back to India to rejoin my job with ONGC. In the meantime, emotional attachment between us grew, and we began to plan for our wedding. One day in the first week of April 1976 her brother Rajesh sent me a telegram on April 3, 1976, that read “MANISHA RAMCHARAN DIED ON 2/4/76 AT 5.00 A.M.” It was the rudest shock of my life, and it took several years to get over it. I keep her smiling photograph on my worktable and remember her daily even today.