Atul's Quest
Nader Habibi
Chapter Twelve
Revelations
I went to my office very early the next day.
Not only did I have to prepare
for a 10 a.m. class, but I also wanted
to talk to Mary before her morning
shift was over. By the time I got to the third floor,
it was 7:55, and Mary was vacuuming one of the graduate student offices. Two other
office doors were wide open. The sound of the vacuum
cleaner was so loud that she did not
notice me as I opened the door to my office. I
kept the door open and waited
for her to finish vacuuming. After two minutes she turned off the vacuum.
As I walked out of my office, Mary also stepped out into the small hallway.
After a brief greeting, I asked
her if she had let anyone into my room while
working on our floor last week.
“Of course not. Why are you asking, Professor? Is something missing?” asked Mary.
“I can’t find a couple of books, but I might have taken them home earlier
and forgotten about it,” I re- sponded.
“I never let anyone into a teacher’s
office - espe- cially
not the students. You know that!”
I thanked her and returned
to my office. I tried
to think of
how else someone could have stolen my notes,
but my thoughts were not fruitful. After
my morning class, I returned to my office and waited for Atul to either call or show up in person, but he never did. I
didn’t have any idea why he was avoiding me.
Instead of calling
him again, I decided to send him an email. Without mentioning his letter, I asked him to contact me immediately regarding his Independent Study. The next morning, I received an email from Atul:
“Unfortunately, I have fallen behind in some of my classes
and have realized that I will not have enough time to complete my IS. I apologize for this sudden decision,
but I have to drop this course in order to keep up with my required courses. Otherwise, I won’t be able to graduate
this semester. Sincerely, Atul.”
I didn’t buy Atul’s explanation. He was so enthu- siastic about whitening that he would have sacrificed his other classes
before abandoning this one. Something must have happened -
something that had to do with his investigations about those girls. Had someone
threatened him to abandon this project? But why was he avoiding me? He could have at
least called me if he did not want to be seen near my office. I didn’t think
it was helpful to try to call him again. I decided to send him the
following email instead:
“I’m very sorry that you have to drop your IS after working so hard
for it. Could you please return the two
books
that you borrowed
last month, at your conve- nience?”
I was hoping that since
we both knew that he had not borrowed any books
from me, he would interpret
this email as a signal that I understood he might have been
coerced to keep away from me but still wanted
to talk to him. He did not respond to this
message. As much as I was worried about how this whole ordeal might
affect me personally and
professionally, I decided
there was no point in trying
to get in touch with Atul any more. My only option
was to wait for the person who took my notes
to make a move either
by contacting me or reporting what I had done to the de- partment. So far he had done neither, which
was very puzzling to me.
Since there wasn’t
much that I could do, I tried
to stop thinking about this issue. Achieving this goal proved easier than I had thought.
By the last week of November, I still had not received even
one positive re- sponse to my job applications. Instead, I
got one or two polite rejection
letters every day. With every rejection, I felt more anxious about my future. I was
equally con- cerned about the
department’s decision on my tenure. I
expected a formal response before the end of the year.
As the days went by and the second week of December came to an end, I knew that there was no hope for any positive response to my job applications. The department search committees responsible for re- cruiting new faculty members
usually complete their
initial search before December 15. Then the initial in- terviews take place during
the American Economic Association’s annual conference in the first week of January.
The finals week of the Fall term passed quickly.
I submerged myself in grading more than 60 term papers and essay exams. I was so busy that I rarely thought about Atul or my stolen
notes. I once thought of writing down everything that I remembered
about the Beauty and Development project, but unfortunately I
did not have the energy
or the motivation for it. The only disturbing
thoughts that attacked my mind during
those days were the occasional
anxieties about my tenure. Aside from my students, the
only other person that I had any
contact with was Elizabeth. She wanted to finish her tasks by
Thursday of the finals week and go home for the holidays.
On Friday, December 18, which
was the last day of the finals week, I stayed in my office until 7 p.m. grading
exam papers. I would have stayed longer except that I was very hungry
and decided to walk to Whitney Avenue
to get a sandwich before walking home.
The weather was unusually mild
for mid- December. As I stepped
out of the department, I noticed a familiar figure crossing the street toward me. I immediately recognized him. It was
Atul. As usual, he was carrying his
large backpack and leaning to one side under its weight. I stood in front of
the department and stared at him as he approached me. “Hi, Dr. H. I
know it might be a bad time, but can I speak to you for a moment?” asked Atul softly.
I just looked at him without
saying anything. Realizing that I was not going
to break the silence, he continued. “I’m very sorry for what happened. I’m leaving tomorrow
for Princeton, and I wanted
to see you to explain
a few things and also
to apologize. The doors were locked, and I have been standing here for 45 minutes waiting
for you to get out of the building,’’ said Atul.
“Why didn’t you come to see me earlier? You could have
at least returned my calls,” I said.
“That is why I’m
here to apologize.”
“Apologize for what? For nosing
into those girls’ private lives against my advice? For
ignoring my messages? Or for wasting my time for
four months and
then dropping
your IS with that stupid excuse?” I asked.
“You have every right to be angry, but please give me a chance to explain? Please,
Dr. H, I already
feel bad
for the way I behaved. Don’t make it any worse
for me.”
I kept quiet for a few seconds while trying to avoid eye contact with
him. “Very well! I just hope you have a good explanation. I’m going to Whitney Avenue to get a sandwich. Would
you like to walk with me?”
“Do you mind if we talk in your office
instead? I don’t want to be
seen talking to you.”
“You don’t want to be seen
with me?!! Why?” I asked.
“What I mean is that I don’t want certain people to see us together.”
I noticed that he was a little nervous. Even though I was very hungry,
I took Atul back to my office after getting a chocolate bar
from a vending machine.
I sat behind my desk and waited for Atul to start his story.
“First, I want to apologize for not getting
in touch with you for the past few weeks.
And you are right: I did not drop my IS because of the
pressure of my other classes. Nor
was it because I lost interest
in whitening,’’
said Atul.
“Did someone threaten you to give it up? That guy that you mentioned in your letter - what was his name? That
tall Indian guy?”
“Ramish Patel.”
“Yes. Did he give you any trouble?”
“I wasn’t threatened to do anything. It’s
more com- plicated than that.” Atul stopped and stared
at me with hesitation. I waited for him to continue.
“Dr. H., I’m not supposed to share any of this with you, but realizing how supportive you
have been over the past few months
and the risk that you took by se- cretly supervising my study of whitening,
I just felt that I owed you an explanation. The fact is that Ramish Patel
and several other Indians belong to
a secret whitening society.
They were the ones who stole my notes. Initially,
they felt threatened by my curiosity about the Golden Girls. But after reading my notes, they realized that I was interested
in whitening and had a positive attitude toward it. So they
contacted me and invited me to join them.”
I looked at Atul with disbelief. “You are joking right?
“ I asked.
“No. I’m telling you the truth. Besides, they are really impressed
with my work on the history of whitening
in Brazil and Japan. “
“Are you telling me that your suspicions about the Golden Girls turned
out to be true?” I asked.
“Yes. The light complexion of
Sweta and other Golden
Girls is not accidental. They are all products
of whitening marriages. Ramish
Patel and several
other fathers of these girls belong to this secret whitening society. Isn’t it amazing? I have finally
found a group of people who share my views
about the importance of whitening.”
I didn’t know whether to believe Atul or not. Maybe all of these were
products of his imagination. Sometimes, when a person is obsessed
with an idea, his imagination takes over. However, the disappearance of my notes was real. “This is unbelievable!! So did they just
contact you and try to recruit you?” I asked.
“The day that I slipped
that long letter
under your door, I got a phone call from Ramish
Patel. I thought he wanted to threaten me again
and
repeat the same
questions about why
I was interested in the family background
of the Golden Girls. Instead, he apologized for his earlier encounter with me and said that he wanted to talk to me in person about something very important.
At first, I was reluctant, but after he said that he had my notes and he wanted
to talk about “whitening,” I agreed. Ramish came to campus and took me to lunch the next day. I was both very excited and worried
about what he had to say. I felt
angry about the fact that he had stolen all my notes, but then it was no
worse than my disguised conversation with his
ex- wife Maria Fuentes and my
aborted plan to contact the mothers of other
Golden girls. As he put it later,
we were even: I had invaded
his daughter’s privacy, and he had invaded mine. I asked him why he was interested in whitening. Instead of responding to my
question, he started asking me about my interest in whitening and promised to answer all of my questions after I had an- swered his. He asked me about when I first became interested in whitening and why I
thought it was a good thing for
non-whites. This was the first time in my life
that someone was listening to
my ideas about whitening without
criticizing or laughing at
me. He also asked me a
lot of questions about the reports that I
had written for my IS. He was particularly intrigued by the passionate
essay that I wrote early on.’’
“You mean the one with the
title, ‘An Appeal to the non-European People of the World?’” I asked, and we both laughed.
“Yes. I know that you thought
it was too emotional and premature, but
Ramish found it admirable. He thought
it was an inspiring piece. Anyway, after asking me all kinds of questions for
about half an hour, he asked
me if I had any questions.
I had only one question
for him: Why did he want to see me and why
was he suddenly so
kind to me? He said that it was because he was as interested in
whitening as me and he shared my opinions
about it. He also had become in- terested
in whitening as an undergraduate student and,
over time, had met several other Indians who
believed in whitening. It was
then that he told me about the ex- istence of a secret society within the
Indian community in the United States. He then told me that
he had come to see if I was interested in joining them. Apparently, Ramish had talked to other members about me after reading my whitening notes.
He told me that he was extending
me this invitation on behalf
of all the members.
They had all found my ideas interesting and,
as I
mentioned earlier, they were delighted
about my findings on the quest for whitening
in Japan and Brazil.”
“So what was your response? Did you accept?” I asked,
still not sure about how much of his story was true.
“Not immediately. I told him that, first, I wanted to know more about the objectives and activities of this society. Ramish said that he could not go into any more details
unless I showed an initial interest and promised
to keep the Society and its activities a secret. He tried to persuade me by promising that membership
in this society would help me realize my intellectual dreams about whitening. I did not hesitate anymore and ac- cepted his
invitation, even though I still had many questions. Ramish told me one of the
reasons that I was selected
for membership was that I refused to reveal my real motives for collecting information about the Golden
Girls when he and his son threatened me. This
behavior to them was an indication that I was
capable of keeping secrets, even
when under pressure. Ramish was very sensitive
about keeping the organization
secret and emphasized
the importance of secrecy several times. He was the one who told me to stop all contacts with
you and drop my independent
study course immediately. He
asked me if I had talked to you about
my investigation about the Golden Girls and my
conversation with Sweta’s mother,
Maria. Since he did not know anything about the letter that I had slipped under your door, I told him that you had no knowledge of any of these developments. Now do you see why I
did not want to be seen with you tonight? I was worried that some of the Indian students and faculty at Yale might belong to the Whitening
Society. Since I had promised
Ramish never to contact you again, I would have been in trouble
if any of them had seen us to- gether. “
“But you did not have to drop your IS course. After spending so
much time on it, you could have, at least, finished
it without telling
me anything about
this so- called secret society.
Or you could have at least contacted
me in a discreet manner,” I complained.
“ Dr. H., you are right. Initially, I did not think of these
options, but at the end of my conversation with Ramish they came to my mind as well.
When I shared these options with Ramish, he did not like them and re- jected
them flatly. He made me promise
again to avoid all contact with you. I had no choice, but
to accept this demand. Otherwise, he wouldn’t
have trusted me. I
have felt guilty ever since, and that is why I’m here. I
felt that I owed you an explanation and an apology before I leave. I graduated this
term and today was my last day at Yale.“
Based on what Atul had just told me, I had a strong feeling that Ramish was the one who stole
my notes. However, I wasn’t
sure if I should say anything about this to Atul. He seemed to have a positive
opinion of
Ramish and his society.
For now, I thought it was time to show some understanding. “In that case, I’m glad you
stopped by. To be honest, I have been very
angry with you for what you did. But after hearing your story,
I’m not angry anymore. It’s just hard to believe that such
a society exists.
Are you sure you know the real motive
of these people? You must make sure
they are not manipulating you,’’ I warned.
“Dr. H., these
past four weeks have been the best weeks of my life. I don’t think they have any ulterior motive, and I don’t
feel in any danger at all. If anything,
I feel I have finally found a group that stands for everything that I believe in. They
have all suffered the same pain and humiliation that I have
gone through as a dark-skinned
Indian. They all share my belief that whitening is the key to a better future for
all of us,’’ re- sponded Atul.
“I can see that you are very passionate about this group, which I suppose must have a name. But I urge you to be very cautious. Before
you get more deeply involved, make sure you know exactly
what they are doing and what they expect from you,” I said. Then, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten
all about my own missing notes.
“Thanks for your concern. So far, I have only met Ramish
and two other members who are also university professors.
Oh, by the way, our group
does have a formal
name. It is called the
Aishwarya Society.
Aishwarya is the goddess of
fair skin in Indian mythology,
which, I’m sure you agree, is an appro-
priate name for such a society. However,
we usually refer to it as the Whitening Society. Anyway, based on my conversations with Ramish and the
other members whom I have met so far, the only objective
of the society is to improve the
racial beauty of the Indian
community in the U.S. They believe, and I fully agree with
them, that future generations of Indians will have a
much better future in America
if their skin com- plexion
is lighter than ours, ‘’ said Atul.
“Then, if this is their only objective, why all the secrecy? Why were they so afraid
of you finding out their secret that they
broke into your room and took all your notes? If they think their idea is so noble, then why not bring it into the open and discuss it with the entire
Indian community?” I asked. This question did not take Atul by surprise.
But that is not all. The Society is even more afraid of a possible backlash
among Indians. India is still a caste-based society and, even among the
Indians who live in Europe or North America, caste loyalties
are very
strong. There is a lot of social stigma attached to marrying outside one’s caste group. Parents in par- ticular insist on their children marrying within the caste.
This is particularly true of the upper and middle castes to which most of us who live in the States belong. Since whitening, by nature,
requires an Indian to marry outside
of his caste, the Society
fears that it will generate
a strong backlash
among the older gen- eration,
whose
caste sensitivity is much stronger.
Ramish told me that when he informed his relatives of his plans for marrying Maria, his
parents were so upset that his father
did not even attend the wedding,” said Atul.
“But weren’t they happy that their bride had such a fair complexion?
After all, you yourself mentioned that Indians are very color conscious,” I commented.
“I don’t know. I never asked
him this question, but I suppose that
is why they eventually accepted her. However, perhaps their hostility toward
Maria played a role in her eventual divorce.
In any case, my point
is that, for large numbers of Indians, concern over caste purity might be more important than their desire for fair
complexion. We have to keep the
Society a secret for now to avoid a
negative backlash from these types
of caste-worshiping Indians,’’ replied Atul.
I noticed that this was the first time that I was hearing such
generalizations from Atul. These must have been the result of his recent association with Ramish.
“Don’t forget another important group, Atul: the Indian women who will not be able to find suitable husbands because
your secret society
will encourage Indian men to marry Hispanic or white
girls,” I said in a
joking manner. We both laughed.
“You’re right,” responded Atul.
“They will be angry, and who knows how they might react to an organi- zation that reduces the
supply of eligible bachelors. So, you see why we have to operate in secrecy.
However, our goals are
broader than simple matchmaking. Obviously,
the society will try to find white husbands
for Indian women, although so far it has not done so, because we do not have any female members.
But Ramish told me that he and others have talked a few
times about helping Indian women have biracial
children through artificial
insemination. This idea, however,
has not gone beyond informal discussions
yet. “
“You mean your society will encourage Indian women to become pregnant from white
men?” I asked.
“Well! Not exactly, but something close to that. What Ramish has in mind is more like
helping Indian women obtain sperm donated by white men.’’
I just looked at him in silence and shook my head as we both smiled. I wondered if
he took this idea se- riously.
He finally broke the silence. “As
I wrote in the APPEAL article,
whitening will ultimately involve a one-shot humiliation. I know this idea
might sound hu- miliating, but the pay off is well worth
it,” said Atul with
a serious look. He did take this idea seriously!
“I think you better keep the Society a secret and just stick to finding
wives for your members. If you make such recommendations for Indian women,
people think you’re nuts,” I said with mild laughter,
as Atul also laughed in conformity.
The temporary effect
of the chocolate bar was fading away, and I was feeling hungry again. I wanted to end the conversation, but not before asking him about my missing notes.
“Atul, I see that you are already involved with these people and trust
them, but there is something that you
should know. The same day that you
slipped that long letter under my door, I discovered that all of my notes on your independent study were
missing. I always kept them in a magazine file on that top shelf behind you. The file and everything in it are gone.”
“You mean someone broke into
your office and took them while you
were in hospital?” asked Atul.
“Yes. Just that single magazine file
and nothing else.”
Atul stared at me for a few seconds: “Who do you think did it? Are you suggesting that
Ramish could be involved?” asked Atul.
“After what you told me tonight,
I can’t think of anyone else. “
“But
do you have any evidence that points to him?” “Evidence,
no. But motive, yes. I
always thought
whoever
took your notes must have taken mine as well. I think Ramish took my
notes after he stole yours. “
“But why?” asked Atul.
“Isn’t it obvious? You told me
he is very concerned about
keeping the Whitening Society a secret. After reading your notes, he must have realized that I was your supervisor, and he assumed
that you must have submitted several reports on whitening
to me. Perhaps he thought some of
your reports were too sensitive and could offer clues to the Whitening Society. So he decided
to steal any reports and notes that you had given me. “
“But since I didn’t know anything about the Society back then, the reports that I gave you have nothing in them
that might expose it,” said Atul.
“Wait a minute, there is
something,” continued Atul. “I had some handwritten notes about the
Golden Girls in the margins
of one of the reports
that Ramish took from my room. Maybe he thought that
I had discussed the Golden Girls with you and you might have taken some notes about them too.”
“Good thinking. Did Ramish ask you any questions
about me? “ I asked.
“Well! He wanted to
know what I had told you about
my inquiries about the Golden
Girls. I told him that you were totally unaware of that
inquiry. I also told
him that I kept those inquiries secret from you because you had strongly opposed
the idea of spying on those
girls. He also asked me if you were doing any
separate research on
whitening aside from
my independent study.’’
“And what did you tell
him?” I interrupted him suddenly.
“Naturally, I told him that you were not. I even told him that you were
initially very reluctant and agreed to supervise my project only out of goodwill.’’
“Did he say why he asked this question?” I asked. “No. Even when I asked him why he was so curious
about you, he did not give me a straight answer. He just told me several times to avoid all contact
with you.” Atul was silent for a few seconds and then continued: ”You know, I think you’re right. He could be the one who
took your notes. Did you tell the department
that someone had broken into
your office?”
“Of course not. I didn’t want the department to find out about your project? My biggest worry
is that whoever took them might send them to the department. It would be very embarrassing for me if the department finds out. It would be a disaster
if they find out that I
secretly helped you study a bizarre
concept like whitening.
No offense. It could cost me my job.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. H. I had no idea that you might get dragged into this. What would you like me to do? Do
you want
me to try to get your
notes back from Ramish?“ asked Atul.
“No! No! If you show any curiosity about my notes, Ramish will
sense that you have talked
to me. If Ramish
is the one who took my notes,
then he is un- likely to send
them to the department. If he exposes
me, he will risk exposing you and indirectly exposing
the Society. Did he give you back your notes?” I asked.
“No. Ramish told me it wasn’t safe to keep any written materials on whitening with
me. He even told me to give him a copy of all the computer files that I had on whitening and erase them from my
laptop. He said the Society had a secret collection of documents, and my notes will be added to this collection. But then all
the reports that I gave you over the past five
months are the same ones that Ramish took from my room. So, he
probably took yours just to get rid of them,’’ replied Atul.”
I did not tell Atul anything about my own notes on beauty and development. On one hand, I was relieved that
Ramish had taken my notes. At least I knew that he would never expose
them. On the other hand, I had lost all my notes on beauty and development, and
there was no way that I could get them
back.
“So
I will never get my notes back either,” I said. “I’m afraid so. But, to be honest, I
don’t think that is
such a big loss to
you, Dr. H. I always
got the im- pression that you didn’t care much for whitening. I’m not
trying to justify what Ramish did, but it’s not
as bad as if he had taken your own
original research notes.
Nevertheless, if you want a copy of the papers that I submitted throughout this semester, I
will try to make copies for you as soon as Ramish
lets me access
the Society’s
documents.’’
I told him I would appreciate it if he could do that. I wished
I could have told him what a big loss it was. I
actually gave more thought to the Beauty and Development project after the disappearance of my notes. I came to the conclusion that it had more po- tential
than I had initially believed. Alas, it was hard for me to continue this project
without my notes. That
was the end of my last and - as usual - long conver-
sation with Atul. I wished him well, and he promised to keep
in touch in a discreet way. As I
walked home that night, I remembered my very first
conversation with him about eight months ago. My first impression of him: a short and
thin Indian student with a large black backpack and a strange idea.