New York via Beirut, Paris, London - July 1969

In reflecting on the life of my beloved father, Jatinder Nath Kapur, who passed away recently at age seventy-five, I decided to post excerpts of his memoir, which begins with his immigration to America. The decision to leave India was the most momentous of his life. My father had never seen the world outside India until the day he left for good in 1969. Below is his account of his voyage out at the age of thirty-five. My father loved parties, drinking Scotch and having a good time, so it's natural he tried to make the most of his first foray to the west:


"My flight to America was booked through Middle East Airlines (MEA) as I had managed to get overnight stays in Beirut and Paris at the airline's expense. I was then planning to spend a few days in London and reach America flying with Pan Am. The Delhi-Beirut flight was uneventful and took about four hours. I reached Beirut at around ten in the morning. My hotel was very comfortable and only a few minutes walk from the main boulevard, which like Marine Drive in Bombay, ran all around the sea. I was pleasantly surprised to see the city was very clean, organized and well-planned with a good array of shops in the main shopping markets. What surprised me most was the currency shops where foreign currency could be easily converted at displayed rates. This was quite different to the numerous formalities one had to undergo in India.

Later that evening, I decided to see the nightlife of Beirut. After having dinner at my hotel, I went out to visit the three or four nightclubs recommended to me within walking distance. Very soon I realized that ten at night was a bit too early for these places so I just walked around killing time. I finally decided to go into one of the clubs at around eleven when the atmosphere was warming up. At the bar, I ordered myself a Scotch and soda and was surprised to see the barman pour a large liberal amount of Scotch without a peg measure. What astonished me was the price of my drink was just fifty cents. In India it would have cost me the equivalent of two-and-a-half dollars for a much smaller drink.

I was just nursing my Scotch when a very pretty young lady asked me if the stool next to me was unoccupied. "Sure," I said and moved over to give her some room so she could sit down. We began some small talk and I asked if she would like a drink. I told her about how this was my first foreign trip and how I was going to America and so on. By the time we were on our third drink, I decided it was time to get back to my hotel. I asked the barman for my bill and was puzzled to see a charge of ten dollars for the lady along with a three-dollar charge for the six drinks the two of us had had. The barman told me it was normal practice to charge for the lady's company. A little argument arose between him and me, as I said that I had not asked the lady for her company and it was just out of courtesy that I had offered her a drink. Meanwhile, the lady went on stage for her performance.

I was asked to see the club manager in his office. I explained the same thing to him, adding that I was prepared to pay the young lady fifty rupees if the club insisted on charging me. I showed the club manager my passport, which indicated the total foreign exchanged sanctioned to me as eight dollars. While I was discussing the matter with the manager, the young lady came in, and realizing I was in a predicament, offered to buy me a drink, saying there should be no hard feelings. I thanked her for her drink and walked back to my hotel to get some sleep before my flight for Paris the next morning."

To be continued...