Jacob realised this, planned his work and started his own business, becoming a consultant in plastics and rubber. His company was the first of its kind in India at that time. We had two small children, Susanna and Jaakko, when we arrived in India. The next two, Joanna and Mika, followed. Jacob and I were busy, fully occupied with our work and bringing up the family. We were happy. I considered myself to be very fortunate to be living in India.

I could not imagine life away from India except for a few months' holiday back in Finland to see my family and friends. This we did infrequently, once every few years. I did not miss anything. Whatever we needed we had.... and a lot more.

We lived amongst beautiful flowers and trees, delicious fruits, birds and all types of animals living in freedom and harmony together. At times it seemed as if life there was the closest to paradise I could imagine. But there was a "snake" in this paradise.

After the fall of man life was brought within the reach of the "snake" at worst of times incarnated into man. To me this was second paradise, as far as I could assemble it without ever having known and lived in the first paradise. Perhaps the most striking resemblance to it was in the freedom of choice between both good and evil shaping the lives of people in a concrete way. There was the freedom to live and let live, to die and let die, coexisting alongside, intermingled in the life of the "paradise", the natural life cycle that repeats itself in incredible mysterious ways. At best, one could find some elements of the true paradise within this "paradise", but the "snake" was lurking, concealed somewhere.

When the "snake" entered the garden of our lives it disturbed its peace and tranquillity. Nothing was the same as before. We started the process of chasing the 'snake' out of our lives while my case was still in the High Court. Things still looked rather uncertain as to where it would all lead to. The fact was that I was no longer free to go out of India or move within the country itself because I was tied to the court case. Meanwhile, I was thinking as to how I could get out of this impasse.

I did not want ever to leave India but I was in such difficult circumstances that I thought that perhaps if I were to tell the court that I wanted to leave India, I would regain my freedom. Freedom of every kind is very important to me and I find any kind of restriction difficult to accept. My suggested possible solution to the problem showed my desperation. I put forward this idea to Jacob. He considered it to be absurd and difficult from the point of view of his work, besides many other commitments.

It took some time for him to see any possibility in it, and as there was another reason too, he thought it over and worked it out before he finally accepted the idea. He started working towards the objective that we could move abroad somewhere; we did not know where as yet, but preferably to an English speaking country. First, however, we would have to go to Finland.

Jacob was facing problems on several fronts in his business. He was trying to set up a manufacturing company within the framework of a corrupt bureaucracy. At the same time things had become sour between him and his partner. Jacob had tried to reason the issue and tried to get the matter amicably settled. This was rejected outright as it was felt that the arbitration that Jacob had asked for was like washing dirty linen in public.

It was then that Jacob made a momentous decision. He was going to sell or close down the company and leave India with the family, to return only when the truth had been realised. That was a decision that he shared only with me. No-one else knew what exactly his plans were. He gave the impression that he was trying to save the situation and resurrect the dying company despite the enormous pressures he was facing.

There were several obstacles to overcome. This company had not been fully established. With his fight with the bureaucracy in full swing, the loans and subsidies that had been sanctioned were unlikely to materialise until he paid out bribes to the officers. This he was not prepared to do. He, therefore, started winding down the business so that when his term as Managing Director ended in February 1984 the assets of the company would be greater than the liabilities. He could leave with a clear mind.

Even during this time there were occasions when he thought that he might be able to overcome the bureaucracy. That was when the local District General Manager (DGM) of the Industries Department walked into the factory office on a routine inspection. In him Jacob found, for the very first time, an honest bureaucrat, a truly god-fearing individual who took an immense liking to our family. Within the space of a few days he became a friend of the family, as much a friend of the community. He was a very strict Madhwite, a Hindu religious group who are so strict in their ways that they do not even drink a glass of water away from their home. The Orthodox Madhwites have to drink water drawn from a well.

Mr. S. H. Keshavmurthy, the DGM, saw the injustices that Jacob had been subjected to by the bureaucracy. He tried to intervene at the highest level, issuing letters and reports about the corrupt practices that were prevalent. Jacob was trying to dispense work to the local people. This was closest to the heart of Mr. Keshavmurthy. He saw women able to work in their own homes to produce goods for Jacob at a reasonable daily wage. I had designed many of the products to be sewn out of the special fabric created by Jacob, by local men and women with sewing machines which had been given to them as a loan by the government. Mr. Keshavmurthy was, however, close to retirement, and he had no "godfathers" in high places in the capital, Bangalore, to get him an extension. Jacob knew that Mr. Keshavmurthy would not be able to succeed in solving the problems during the limited time he had available before his retirement. He, however, took the opportunity to make his point of view understood, but it was only another attempt doomed to failure as those at the top of the ladder were corrupt.

The second problem related around a financial matter with his partner in his other business, his consultancy. For legal reasons he needed that to be resolved permanently before he left India. Jacob exerted intense pressure from every angle such that it literally blew the lid off the top and caused senior family members to intervene to try to rectify the situation. Jacob knew that if we were to leave during 1984 he would have to have this matter resolved before the end of the 1983 financial year, so that only the true position would be reflected in the balance sheets.

It was vitally important to him to have all relevant matters in order as otherwise it would be construed that he had left India because of financial irregularities. He worked out the strategy so that matters came to a head. This was finally resolved by the intervention of his uncle, Mr. K. M. Mammen Mappillai, an understanding and truly humane individual, who is the chairman of India's largest tyre manufacturing company, MRF Ltd. Mr. Mammen's primary intention was to ensure that no stress or strain of these issues would fall on Jacob's parents. Mr. Mammen has always been very close to his only sister and her husband.

By November 1983 the subject was resolved. Jacob could rest in peace that all the finances of his company were in order and no-one who studied the company's finances could point a finger of any financial impropriety at him.

The third reason that was on his mind was my case. He knew that until the case was settled there was no way that we could leave India. So he did his best to force the issue to get the case disposed of by the end of 1983. Of course, this was dependent on the time the High Court took to pass a verdict on our petition, but Jacob kept hammering away at our lawyers, insisting that I had to travel abroad and wanted my passport released.

When he made this decision to wind down operations we were living in Koramangala, a relatively new suburb in Bangalore. It was a two-bedroomed independent house, so small that we barely fitted into it with our large collection of furniture. Life went on largely along the usual lines, the children's school, and the routine of everyday life. Of course there was this court case always at the back of our minds. At the same time we were quietly preparing to leave the country, which involved a lot of arrangements. Finally we reached the point where we were ready to sell our things or give them away.

Prior to this we had temporarily lived in the beautiful Bangalore Club which the children loved as it had all the facilities which they enjoyed. There was an open air swimming pool, with a snacks counter for ice-cream and other delicacies in between the periods spent in the naturally warm water. There was a well stocked library which was of great interest to them. Several of their friends would be around the club and there were regular movies shown on the lawns of the club. The menu for lunch or dinner was varied, and each one could order to one's taste. The boys' school was next door and the girls' school was just up the road.

Living there, however, for a long period had its disadvantages. It was actually meant only for short stays. We had to spend the weekends at our company Guest House in Maddur as the club required the rooms for the numerous weekend members who came there from other cities. This meant that by Friday morning I had to pack everything and be ready for the drive to Maddur once the children returned from school. For a large family this was quite difficult.

A further difficulty was the exposure of the children to excessive stimulation and leisure which we thought was not exactly desirable as it could disturb their studies. So we decided to find another temporary place in Bangalore. The housing situation was quite chronic and we could locate only a small independent house in a corner suburb of Bangalore. It was so different from the new three-storeyed house which we had occupied earlier, where two floors housed our office and the officers' quarters, and we had occupied the top floor. The children had enjoyed that locality as there was a lot of space and the surrounding area had many children of their age group with whom they had become good friends.

Besides the six of us we had also acquired Woolina, a cat, and Tabina, a dog. Both of these animals had been saved from the roadside of the Koramangala suburb. Woolina was just a little kitten when she was saved by Mika, who had pulled her out of a drain pipe where she had escaped to when she had been frightened by a dog. Our children saw a boy emptying a bag containing some unwanted puppies on a rubbish heap. From there one unfortunate little bundle of life did not accept the place as her home but bravely walked on a little distance with her tail proudly up and wagging vigorously as she was approaching our house, when she stopped at our gate. The children were waiting for the puppy to come in. She was eagerly accepted into the family, but first she had to go through a big cleaning operation to get rid of the ticks. These two animals, Tabina and Woolina, became great friends.

We lived in this small suburban house for almost two years. It was a pleasant locality except that we faced severe water shortages frequently. This taught all of us many useful skills, especially how to use water economically. It was difficult but we managed at times with the absolute minimum.

As a first step to departing we decided to dispose of all our items of furniture and things which we did not intend to carry with us. We held a sale and got rid of many possessions. Only the bare essentials were left, and this we transferred to the apartment in the factory which was situated in an industrial estate near the village of Sommanahalli, just outside the small town of Maddur about 80 km from Bangalore on the Bangalore/Mysore highway. We moved to Sommanahalli. As a final gesture of our commitment to leave India Jacob withdrew the children from school for a year, except for our eldest daughter, Susanna, who decided she would stay at her grandparents' home so as to complete her last year at school. Jacob hoped we could leave within a month of getting me released from the court, and he put pressure on the lawyers to this end.

For the three children it was a busy time of various activities. There were several people engaged in different jobs in our factory. In an effort to try and sell it, Jacob had to keep its jobs moving but at the same time reduce the personnel so that the factory would be free of any labour encumbrances, either when we sold it or we decided to lock it up. The children had taken an interest in everything that was being done there. They had got to know the local people, especially those who worked in our factory. They had quickly learnt the language of the people, which was Kannada, and communicated with them. My knowledge of it was limited to a few words. I did my best to manage with my practical Tamil, but it only worked with the people who knew Tamil. There is a great deal of difference, as much as French to German, even in the languages of the neighbouring states.

The industrial estate was situated in very beautiful countryside surrounded by hills which constantly changed their colours, through shades of blues, from light to dark. This same area had been alive with rich wild life only some 20 years earlier. People had hunted panthers in the nearby hills. I often wished that the panthers were still roaming there. Just on the other side of the road beside the factory there were fields where groundnut was grown. Further up, near to where the Bangalore/Mysore railway line passed the industrial estate, there was a shady mango grove.

The sunrise and the sunsets were especially beautiful here. The light and huey morning sun gave birth to each new day with increasingly glorious sunshine till at midday it was painfully hot to walk barefoot. It was a breathtaking sight to see the big flaming red ball of fire plunge suddenly behind the calm and peaceful village with crusts of isolated little white or earthen coloured small houses turning rosy red for a passing moment. It seemed as though a huge brush had painted the trees and houses swiftly black against the still shimmering sky. The darkness came suddenly as if a giant hand had spread an enormous sack cloth across the sky to hide out the light. But from the holes in the cloth soon appeared the first little stars - like a fantastic show of lights illuminating the whole sky above and bedecking it with countless more brilliant distant lights competing to focus over the village preparing for the night and flooding it with heavenly lights.

In the dry season when the rains were expected we used to scan the sky to detect any signs of approaching rain. There were times when the sky was dark with heavy clouds hanging over the hills and promising rain. We were hopeful and could sometimes smell the rain brought by the wind, but often the clouds were just swept away. When the rains came everything looked fresh and got new life into them. There was a strong smell of the eucalyptus trees which were growing in the factory compound, mixed with the smell of dry mud when it is first wet by the rain.

It was the highlight of the day when all the family assembled leaving chores and activities unfinished and preparing ourselves to go for an evening stroll to take part in the wonderful serenity of the approaching sunset. We found a stick to carry with us so as to make sounds to warn other road users who were as pleased as we were to be on those quiet roads. In the daytime the roads were monopolised by people. But with the first signs of the approaching sunset the unseen inhabitants of the land during the day began to appear out of their holes and hiding places. The night was theirs.

Tabina, our black dog, enjoyed her exciting walks as we did. Woolina, our multicoloured cat, also often accompanied us. It was more often than not that we had some kind of encounter with snakes, usually cobras. We kept a respectable distance from them, except Tabina, whom we often had to restrain from challenging a snake. She usually had the animal instinct of the presence of a snake before we did. For her safety she was always on a leash. She sometimes managed to get dangerously close to within striking distance of snakes, and sometimes a cobra would raise its body and spread its hood. The walks used to be expeditions into the bird world too, for there used to be wonderful looking birds.

There was a railway line some 300 m away from the factory from where we could hear the sound of the train cutting the silence of the village, and we could see it like a big reptile steadily winding into the landscape against the background of the hills, appearing and disappearing alternately from behind the mango trees till it was out of sight. In the evenings it looked like a shiny glow worm.

Towards the south of Sommanahalli there were sugarcane fields and refineries. When passing those areas one would get a sudden smell of sweetness and sharp alcohol. When the crops were ready to be harvested it was evident at a distance by the big burning flames licking the dark night. I often used to watch and love those fires. It looked like all was well with the world.

This little world of reality dominated my view of life. My view was broken by being conscious that the realities of these little worlds were multiplied millions of times, and that the world was changing continually through the pair of eyes seeing it in context. The picture before my eyes told me that all was well; life in the little world of this reality went on as it had done for thousands of years before, each life shaping the world in some way leaving traces behind where the wheel of time brought to it a series of new realities. Here was I, a creature who seemed to be ill-fitted to these surroundings... but now I was wrapped in the soft dark velvet gown of the night with a warm gentle breeze caressing my face. I seemed to have melted into the darkness of the night in union with this life, the stranger becoming as much a part of life here as the night which no force except the softly creeping in morning light could move. Only the might of light can expel the night.