Now my family was well, and I was finally in India. As the chauffeur drove us to our house, I tried my best to look forward and put on a cheerful face for my family. Raj warned me about the house D.P. Bakhsi pressured her to choose. “It’s not in the best neighborhood,” she told me, “but it’s the best I could do out of the options they gave me.”
The chauffeur pulled onto a narrow street in the Masjid Moth area. All the houses were crowded together, and our house looked small and plain with peeling paint and scraggly bushes in front. The chauffeur helped me unload my suitcase and bags from the trunk, and we all entered the house. There was not much furniture inside, just a couch, a table and chairs, and some bedding to tide us over until our custom-built furniture arrived.
Oh God, what is this? I thought, looking around at the dingy walls and dirty concrete floor. Even though the windows were open to let in the breeze, the air felt stifling hot. I gestured for the chauffeur to set my suitcase and bags in the bedroom, and then I turned around and smiled at Raj. She watched me nervously.
“This is fine,” I said. “When I’ve been working at the hospital a while, I will have more influence with the Goels. Mr. Bakhsi will not be an obstacle. Then we will find the right house for us.” I hid my true feelings, not wanting Raj to sense my disappointment. She had worked hard to find a house.
Upon our arrival, a servant prepared tea, and Raj rang the bell to be served. She showed me the bell ringing system connected from the bedrooms to the kitchen. Whenever we needed a glass of water or cup of tea, we could ring the bell and the servant would appear, asking, “What do you need, sir?”
The next morning, I met with Mr. Mangal at the Goels’ office to discuss the hospital. Afterward, D.P. Bakhsi escorted me to the construction site. The construction team had built a few temporary offices on the site, and one of them was reserved for me. The office contained only a table and chair, nothing more. I was crestfallen at the sight of the tiny, dank office. I could not imagine meeting with staff members and important hospital figures in this confined space. I had hoped my office would resemble Mr. Bakhsi’s spacious office with its large desk, shelves, and comfortable chairs. I hid my distaste, knowing Mr. Bakhsi enjoyed seeing me working in such conditions. He was jealous of the importance given to me, and he failed to hide his dislike.
Mr. Bakhsi introduced me to the staff—one architect to coordinate construction, a retired colonel in charge of the construction, an accountant, a draftsman, four peons, two secretaries, and a medical doctor just returned from the Middle East. I liked the colonel right away. He had an open, honest nature I could trust. While the staff filled me in on the project’s finances, construction, and architecture, the colonel took me aside, fixing me with a serious expression.
“There are some elements assigned to this project who might not be honest with you,” he cautioned me. “They might try to pull you down in every effort to make you fail.”
Mr. Bakhsi came to mind, but were there others too? Puzzled, I simply thanked him and moved on. I was here to do a job, and I planned to do it the way I knew best. Besides, I preferred to have a fresh start with the staff. I would draw my own conclusions.
Later that day, I met with D.P. Bakhsi. Sitting in his site office, I could look out the window and see the construction workers building the frame of the hospital. It looked like hot, dusty work, and the sound of drills and hammers made its way into D.P. Bakhsi’s tidy office. Mr. Bakhsi sat behind his desk looking at me intently, not with an expression of dislike, but one of boldness, almost bordering on insolence. I already detected friction between him and the colonel, and this was to be confirmed later, but at that moment, there were several factors to discuss.
“Prior to your arrival, the colonel has been holding weekly meetings with the project staff members,” D.P. Bakhsi said. “Now that you are here, you should hold the meetings.”
I nodded my head. In a way, it made sense, but at the same time, it was obvious he was attempting to create friction between the colonel and me. Nevertheless, I spoke to the colonel about it, and he said it would be okay. “Bedi Saheb, just to be sure,” he said, “I am the project director of construction, and any issues related to construction you should communicate with me.”
“Yes, I will make sure to do so, Colonel Saheb,” I said. With that, I gave him a firm handshake, a friendly yet professional gesture to say I meant no ill will.
After being in Delhi for a month, I held my first meeting with the organizations associated with the hospital project. To my annoyance, people arrived thirty minutes to an hour late. Right away, I established a few rules, the first rule being that everyone must arrive on time, and we would start the meeting at the scheduled time. Second, we must listen to each other, and only one person could talk at a time. “There will be no meetings going on within the meeting,” I said. If we were going to accomplish anything, the meetings needed order and discipline.
During the first few months, I toured several hospitals in Bombay and Madras (now known as Chennai), in order to familiarize myself with healthcare facilities in India. When I returned to New Delhi, I tried to conduct business
