Thousand Full Moon: Shrimati Mangala Sahasrabudhdhe (81+)
Summary in English: Rohini
Mangala Mami’s First Day in America: A Story of Adventure, Tears, and Laughter
Yesterday, after many years, I met Mangala Sahasrabuddhe—Mami, as we fondly call her. She is as vibrant and spirited as ever, with a treasure trove of stories ready to tumble out at the slightest nudge. When I suggested she share one for the blog, she instantly launched into a tale from decades ago: her arrival in the United States with an infant in tow, on her way to join her husband. It’s a story that is equal parts intriguing, amusing, and dramatic.
Since we had only a short time together, and I didn’t want to burden her with writing or staged recording, I suggested we capture the story right there in the car. She laughed and agreed. What followed was her delightful narration in Marathi, which I’ve summarized here for everyone else to enjoy.
Setting the Stage
Shrimati Mangala Sahasrabuddhe was born in Pune and grew up in a bustling joint family, surrounded by parents, siblings, uncles, and aunts. She married Vidyadhar Sahasrabuddhe in 1964. By 1970, Vidyadhar had obtained a green card—yes, in those days, permanent residency was surprisingly easy to come by, as America was eager to welcome skilled workers.
Soon after, he made arrangements for Mangala and their baby boy to join him. She received her own green card and prepared for her very first airplane journey. That’s when the adventure began.
Letters, Mix-Ups, and Missing Companions
In those pre-email days, letters were the only way to communicate, taking about 15 days each way. To ease Mangala’s nerves about flying, Vidyadhar arranged for her to travel with Alka Ratnaparkhi, the wife of a colleague, who was also immigrating with her young son.
But just before departure, disaster struck. Alka was denied her green card because her son’s passport photo didn’t clearly show both ears (yes, both ears!). She rushed to tell Mangala that she wouldn’t be traveling after all.
By then, Mangala hadn’t heard back from her husband because of a mix-up: in a letter, he’d written his new address as “295 S. 41st Street.” Mangala mistook the “S” for a “5,” wrote back with the wrong address, and her letter never reached him. So, when Alka dropped out, Mangala was left in a dilemma—should she still travel alone with her eight-month-old? Alka reassured her that her husband, Achhyut, would be at the airport and could help if Vidyadhar didn’t show. With nerves of steel (or perhaps sheer momentum), Mangala pressed on.
The Flight
Her baby was used to sleeping in a cradle or swing, and she worried about how he would manage on the long journey. A friend had told her airlines provided cribs, so she pinned her hopes on that.
On the day of travel, she bundled her son in a warm sweater and woolen bonnet and boarded the plane—only to be disappointed by the “crib”: a bassinet awkwardly bolted to the partition. Unsurprisingly, the baby howled. Mangala and the sympathetic air hostess improvised a sling swing out of cloth and gently rocked him to sleep. A small victory!
But the trouble wasn’t over. When they landed in New York, the baby began crying uncontrollably—now overheated in his woolens. Mangala begged an air hostess to take the child a little distance away so he wouldn’t see her and might settle down. This was her first introduction to America: paperwork, tears, and a red-faced, sweaty infant.
The Airport Reunion
Meanwhile, Vidyadhar, worried sick after weeks of silence, was persuaded by Mr. Ratnaparkhi to accompany him to the airport. And there, through the sea of weary travelers, Mangala spotted her husband waiting. She thought he looked heaven-sent. Relief washed over her.
Just then, poor Mr. Ratnaparkhi came dashing up, asking where his wife was. Mangala had to break the news about the infamous “missing ear photo.”
First Night in America
Mangala’s challenges, however, were far from over. Vidyadhar, still new at his job, couldn’t take time off, so after showing her the essentials—the refrigerator, a carton of milk, the stove, and his office number—he left for his night shift.
Alone with the baby, Mangala soon discovered her breast milk had dried up from the stress of travel. She decided to feed him the milk from the refrigerator but faced a new puzzle: how to warm it? She searched high and low for matches, not realizing the stove had a pilot light. Hot and cold water from the tap also baffled her—such a luxury didn’t exist in India at the time. In the end, she simply left the milk out until it reached room temperature.
The baby drank happily, but then came bedtime. No cradle. No swing. Desperate, Mangala tied a cloth between two chairs to create a makeshift swing. But her chubby son was too heavy—the chairs clattered together the moment she placed him inside. Now it wasn’t just the baby crying—Mangala joined in too!
She tried calling Vidyadhar but had no idea how to dial letters on a rotary phone. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and furious, she made a decision: when her husband returned, she told him bluntly that he could stay in America if he liked, but she was going straight back to India.
Looking Back
Of course, she didn’t. Life unfolded, and America became home. With a hearty laugh, Mangala recalls how, years later, Vidyadhar would tell everyone that whenever he suggested moving back to India for good, she would quip:
“You can go back if you like—I’m staying right here!”
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We thank Mangala for sharing her story with us and wish her a journey blessed with health, peace and many more laughs!.
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