In the end, Z.M. Goel gave me the go-ahead, and I moved into the nicer, more spacious office. D.P. Bakhsi did not appreciate my pushing him out of the office. He was considered a big man in his profession, and since he was dealing in finances, everyone was afraid of him, especially because he pushed his weight around and usually got what he wanted. He felt I had undermined him in front of his staff by taking over his office.
This was simply the way things should be. As executive director, a title I requested in place of “administrator,” I couldn’t let D.P. Bakhsi control me. It seemed only fair that I should have an office to conduct business in, since I was in charge of the entire hospital, not just one area of it. To D.P. Bakhsi, my position and responsibilities did not matter. From that point on, whatever I tried to accomplish, he found a way to interfere.
The first week of January 1984, my family and I moved into a house located at 333 East of Kailash. We lived on the second floor, and an American man who worked with Goels Sterling Drug lived on the first floor. The second floor had three bedrooms and was clean and well-furnished. The third bedroom was located above us, and there was a staircase to the roof with a table and chairs. We felt lucky to live in a nicer house, and having an American living below increased the status of our new home.
After a couple of months in India, I sensed the financing of the hospital wasn’t coming through. The State Bank of India rejected the initial proposal, forcing the Goels to scale back the project to a 350-bed facility. But when the papers were prepared, the project was still not financially viable. The Goels arranged for me to meet with the minister of health, explain the scope of the project, and plead our case. I also met with Pranabh Mukherjee, the minister of finance who was also the right hand man to Prime Minister Indira Gandhi.
As the months passed, I became more discouraged. The funding for the hospital was not coming in, and what had seemed like a sure thing was now full of uncertainty. A few weeks earlier, I’d spoken with Mr. Gilreath to follow up on my financial matters—the bills needing to be paid in the States as well as house payments that needed to be deposited to our accounts there. I casually said, “Maybe I should come back. The project is not going as planned.” However, Mr. Gilreath only sympathized with me and did not give any indication that I would get my job back if I returned. I decided to continue working hard to see if the project would still come through.
The entire time, I also dealt with the politics of seven cousin-brothers and the competition and jealousies arising between them. Even though Z.M. Goel was managing director of the project, the other cousin-brothers were also members of the board. G.B. Goel, for instance, wanted to be the managing director, and his father, Gobind Lal, also wanted him to be in charge. There was a lack of professionalism and no organized structure. The Goels did not show as much interest in the project as they should if they wanted it to be a success. In fact, it was extremely difficult for me to meet with Z.M. Goel on a regular basis to give him updates on our progress, financial or otherwise.
The Goels scaled back the project to 200 beds, and we still weren’t getting loan approvals. D.P. Bakhsi was the director of finances and had played a major part in getting the loans approved. Now he was a failure. He only did the required amount of work, not putting his heart and soul into it. Sometimes it seemed he was spoiling the project, throwing in a monkey wrench. He wanted the colonel out, resenting him because the colonel threw him out of a meeting, telling Z.M. Goel he did not want Bakhsi coming to the construction site at all. I dealt the best I could with these obstacles and controversies, hoping this project would somehow come out on top.
In India, bugs and mosquitoes flourished at our house on East of Kailash. The only spray available to kill insects was DDT, a chemical spray banned in the US. I hesitated to spray DDT, but the bug problem worsened until I had no choice. The night after we sprayed, Rajan’s breathing became heavy and labored. We took him to a hospital for treatment, and I felt deep remorse for exposing Rajan to harmful chemicals. The environment in India was twenty years behind the US, and in times like these, I wondered why I had brought my family to India. Environmental dangers lurked all around us, not to mention the traffic, which only added to the stress and chaos.
During the summer months, the temperature reached over one hundred ten degrees, and sometimes the air conditioners would shut down because it was so hot. The children tossed and turned sleeplessly in their hot rooms, so I sprinkled cold water on their sheets each night.
