My life might be a "C" .. .not because of these "C" places

By April 1986, I had quit my first job straight out of college at Coimbatore. I had spent all of three months on the job in Calcutta and was convinced that I did not want to waste my life in engineering.

Those were the days before the proliferation of phones in India and, therefore, my parents did not know anything about me having quit the job.  And that, as it would turn out later on, I would simply loaf around doing nothing for a few months after that.

My parents lived in a small town called Choudhwar, a little outside of C ttack.    Father was the consulting engineer there for an industrial construction.  I showed up unannounced, with the few belongings that were packed into one suitcase and with a briefcase in another hand.  I told them that I was done with my job in Calcutta and that I needed time to figure things out.

I am sure my parents were worried that I would turn out to be one heck of a loser. (There is a fair chance that they don't think that anymore.  I know the reality that I am a loser!  But, hey, I am in America!!!)

After a few days of puttering around there--nothing much to do in that small town--I headed to Madras.  Yes, it was Madras those days, before it went through the name change to Chennai.

In those old days, newspapers and radio were pretty much all we had, with the Indian television (Doordharshan) news on a competition against itself on how much lamer its soap operas could get.  I recall thinking that the C ernobyl disaster must be a serious one if the Swedes were complaining about the radioactivity detected in the sky above them.

After more loafing around, taking up a job that I quit after three weeks, and then taking up another job in which I lasted for nearly six months, I took off for the US with a conviction that I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life.  I bet my parents were relieved that I was no longer a nasty reminder of a wasted life.

A couple of years after that, the Soviet Union itself was gone.  As more than one commentator, like this one, has pointed out when looking at the events in the rear view mirror of life,

Chernobyl, then, represented a fundamental shift in the relationship between the Soviet citizenry and the state. Before the explosion, most Soviets were not discontented dissidents; they believed in the Soviet system, forgave its flaws, and hoped for a better future within its confines. But after Chernobyl, the system seemed potentially unredeemable—and actively dangerous. In the early days of glasnost, stories of Stalin’s mass murders decades earlier slowly bubbled to the fore, but those generally receded, so far removed were they from everyday life. After Chernobyl, though, every citizen’s safety was at stake.

On this anniversary of that Chernobyl disaster, I am reminded of a dinner from two years ago.  I had invited for dinner a visiting Ukrainian environmental attorney,Olga, and her host, "M,"who is a friend.  Of course, I couldn't wait to ask Olga about Chernobyl, and so after dinner I did.

"Where were you when Chernobyl exploded?" I asked her.

Olga said that they lived in Kiev, which is just about 100 kilometers from Chernobyl.  But, 100 km in the Soviet era was a lot more than the mere physical distance, particularly given the state of telecommunications then.  Thus, they had no news about the disaster for days, and went about their daily business.  Children played outside.  And, children and people marched like they did every year to celebrate May Day.

But then, Olga said, there was one notable absence--the children of senior party and government officials were not in town but had gone away to far away places like Moscow.  A week later, many of them were not present at the rah-rah May Day parades and celebrations.  Only later when the news of the disaster started trickling in did they understand that those with the inside information had scooted away their children to the safer environs of Moscow, far away from potential radiation fallout.

Olga's father was apparently one of the many men who volunteered to go to Chernobyl to help move women and children out of that place.  And, like many of them, he now lives with a thyroid problem as a result.

Chernobyl is, thus, a symbol not only about the huge downsides associated with a careless and reckless use of nuclear energy but also a tragic reminder of the horrible totalitarian state that was in existence up until a mere two decades ago.  The Fukushima event from two years ago is a stark contrast--when the entire world could watch and follow in real time how that nuclear accident was being handled.

Over the years in between Chernobyl and Fukushima, I have certainly figured out what to do with my life.  It was about eleven years ago about this time in 2002 that I submitted my notice to quit the job that I had in California.  Yes, there are plenty of people who would prefer that I am not one of their colleagues where I now work; but, I have no plans to quit what I am doing.  Especially when I live in a place that proudly proclaims that it is a nuclear-free-zone!