The X = X + 1 Syndrome
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When an Indian professional becomes a 'Non-Resident Indian' in the United States, he soon starts suffering from a strange disease. The symptoms are a fixture of restlessness, anxiety, hope and nostalgia. The virus is a deep inner need to get back home. Like Shakespeare said, "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." The medical world has not coined a word for this malady. Strange as it is, it could go by a stranger name, the "X + 1" syndrome.

To understand this disease better, consider the background. Typically middle-class, the would be migrant's sole ambition through school is to secure admission into one of those heavily government subsidised institutions - the IITs. With the full backing of a doting family and a good deal of effort, he acheives his goal. Looking for fresh worlds to conquer, his sights rest on the new world. Like lemmings to the sea, hordes of IIT graduates descend on the four US consulates to seek the holiest of holy grails - the F-1 (student) stamp on the passport. After crossing the visa hurdle and tearful farewell, our hero departs for the Mecca of higher learning, promising himself and his family that he will return some day - soon!

The family proudly informs their relatives of each milestone - his G.P.A., his first car (twenty years old), his trip to Niagara Falls (photographs), his first winter (parkas,gloves). The two years roll by and he graduates at the top of his class. Now begins the 'great hunt' for a company that will not only give him a job but also sponsor him for that 3" X 3" grey plastic, otherwise known as the Green Card. A US company sensing a good bargain offers him a job. Naturally, with all the excitement of seeing his first pay check in four digit dollars, thoughts of returning to India are far away. His immediate objective of getting the Green Card is reached within a year.

Meanwhile, his family back home worry about the strange American influences (and more particularly, AIDS). Through contacts they line up a list of eligble girls from eligible families and wait for the great one's first trip home. Return he does, at the first available oppurtunity, with gifts for the family and mouth-watering tales of prosperity beyond imagination. After interviewing the girls, he picks the most likely (lucky) one to be Americanised. Since the major reason for the alliance is his long-term stay abroad, the question of his immediate return does not arise. Any doubts are set aside by the 'backwardnes' of working life, long train travel, lack of phones, inadequate oppurtunities for someone with hi-tech qualifications, and so on.

The newly-weds return to America with the groom having to explain the system of arranged marriages to the Americans. Most of them regard it as barbaric and on the same lines as communism. The tongue-tied bride is cajoled into explaining the bindi and saree. Looking for something homely, the couple plunges into the frenetic expatriate week-end social scene compromising dinners, videos of Hindi/regional films, shopping at Indian stores, and bhajans.

Initially, the wife misses the warmth of her family, but the presence of washing machines, vacuum cleaners, daytime soap operas and the absence of a domineering mother-in-law helps. Bits of news filtering through from India, mostly from returning Indians, is eagerly lapped up.

In discussions with freinds, the topic of returning to India arises frequently but is brushed aside by the lord and master who is now rising in the corporate world and has fast moved into a two garage home - thus fulfilling the great American Dream. The impending arrival of the first born fulfills the great Indian Dream. The mother-in-law arrives in time: after all, no right thinking parent would want their off-spring to be born in India if offered the American alternative.

With all material comforts that money can bring, begins the first signs of un- easiness - a feeling that somehow things are not what they should be. The craze for exotic electronic goods, cars and vacations have been satiated. The week-end gatherings are becoming routine.

Faced with a mid-life crisis, the upwardly mobile Indian's career graph plateu's out. Younger and more aggressive Americans are promoted. With one of the periodic mini recessions in the economy and the threat of a hostile take-over, the job itself seems far from secure.

Unable or unwilling to socialize with the Americans, the Indian retreats into a cocoon. At the home front,the children have grown up and along with American accents have imbibed American habits (cartoons,hamburgers) and values(dating). They respond to their parents' exhortation of leading a clean Indian way of life by asking endless questions.

The generation gap combines with the cultural chasm. Not surprisingly, the first serious thoughts of returning to India occur at this stage. Taking advantage of his vacation time, the Indian returns home to 'explore' possibilities. Ignoring the underpaid and beaurocratic government sector, he is bewildered by the 'primitive' state of the private sector. Clearly overqualified even to be a managing director/chairman he stumbles upon the idea of being an entrepreneur.

In the seventies, his search for an arena to display his buisness skills normally ended in poultry farming. In the eighties, electronics is the name of the game. Undaunted by horror stories about government red tape and corruption he is determined to overcome the odds - with one catch. He has a few things to settle in the United States. After all, you can't just throw away a lifetime's work. And there are things like taxation and customs regulations to be taken note of. Pressed for a firm date, he says confidently 'next year' and therein lies our story. The next years come and go but there is no sign of our McCarthian freind.

About 40 years later our, by now, a old friend dies of a scheduled heart-attack and it so happens that his last wish was that he be laid to rest in the city he was born in India. So our friend at last returns to India for good. But by now the people who were so looking forward to see him return to his homeland are no more.

In other words if 'X' is the current year, then the objective is to return in the 'X + 1' year. Since 'X' is a changing variable, the objective is never reached. Unable to truly melt in the 'Great Melting Pot', chained to his cultural moorings and haunted by an abject fear of giving up an accustomed standard of living, the Non-Resident Indian vacillates and oscillates between two worlds in a twilight zone. Strangely, this malady appears to affect only the Indians - all of our Asian brethren from Japan, Korea and even Pakistan - seem immune to it.

McCain likes to illustrate his moral fibre by referring to his five years as a prisoner-of-war in Vietnam. And to demonstrate his commitment to family values, the 71-year-old former US Navy pilot pays warm tribute to his beautiful blonde wife, Cindy, with whom he has four children.

But there is another Mrs McCain who casts a ghostly shadow over the Senator’s presidential campaign. She is seldom seen and rarely written about, despite being mother to McCain’s three eldest children.

And yet, had events turned out differently, it would be she, rather than Cindy, who would be vying to be First Lady. She is McCain’s first wife, Carol, who was a famous beauty and a successful swimwear model when they married in 1965.

She was the woman McCain dreamed of during his long incarceration and torture in Vietnam’s infamous ‘Hanoi Hilton’ prison and the woman who faithfully stayed at home looking after the children and waiting anxiously for news.

But when McCain returned to America in 1973 to a fanfare of publicity and a handshake from Richard Nixon, he discovered his wife had been disfigured in a terrible car crash three years earlier. Her car had skidded on icy roads into a telegraph pole on Christmas Eve, 1969. Her pelvis and one arm were shattered by the impact and she suffered massive internal injuries.

When Carol was discharged from hospital after six months of life-saving surgery, the prognosis was bleak. In order to save her legs, surgeons had been forced to cut away huge sections of shattered bone, taking with it her tall, willowy figure. She was confined to a wheelchair and was forced to use a catheter.

Through sheer hard work, Carol learned to walk again. But when John McCain came home from Vietnam, she had gained a lot of weight and bore little resemblance to her old self.

Today, she stands at just 5ft4in and still walks awkwardly, with a pronounced limp. Her body is held together by screws and metal plates and, at 70, her face is worn by wrinkles that speak of decades of silent suffering.

For nearly 30 years, Carol has maintained a dignified silence about the accident, McCain and their divorce. But last week at the bungalow where she now lives at Virginia Beach, a faded seaside resort 200 miles south of Washington, she told The Mail on Sunday how McCain divorced her in 1980 and married Cindy, 18 years his junior and the heir to an Arizona brewing fortune, just one month later.

Carol insists she remains on good terms with her ex-husband, who agreed as part of their divorce settlement to pay her medical costs for life. ‘I have no bitterness,’ she says. ‘My accident is well recorded. I had 23 operations, I am five inches shorter than I used to be and I was in hospital for six months. It was just awful, but it wasn’t the reason for my divorce. ‘My marriage ended because John McCain didn’t want to be 40, he wanted to be 25. You know that happens...it just does.’

Some of McCain’s acquaintances are less forgiving, however. They portray the politician as a self-centred womaniser who effectively abandoned his crippled wife to ‘play the field’. They accuse him of finally settling on Cindy, a former rodeo beauty queen, for financial reasons.

McCain was then earning little more than £25,000 a year as a naval officer, while his new father-in-law, Jim Hensley, was a multi-millionaire who had impeccable political connections. He first met Carol in the Fifties while he was at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis. He was a privileged, but rebellious scion of one of America’s most distinguished military dynasties – his father and grandfather were both admirals.

But setting out to have a good time, the young McCain hung out with a group of young officers who called themselves the ‘Bad Bunch’. His primary interest was women and his conquests ranged from a knife-wielding floozy nicknamed ‘Marie, the Flame of Florida’ to a tobacco heiress.

Carol fell into his fast-living world by accident. She escaped a poor upbringing in Philadelphia to become a successful model, married an Annapolis classmate of McCain’s and had two children – Douglas and Andrew – before renewing what one acquaintance calls ‘an old flirtation’ with McCain.

It seems clear she was bowled over by McCain’s attention at a time when he was becoming bored with his playboy lifestyle. 'She was 28 and ready to settle down and he loved Carol’s children,’ recalled another Annapolis graduate, Robert Timberg, who wrote The Nightingale’s Song, a bestselling biography of McCain and four other graduates of the academy.

The couple married and McCain adopted Carol’s sons. Their daughter, Sidney, was born a year later, but domesticity was clearly beginning to bore McCain – the couple were regarded as ‘fixtures on the party circuit’ before McCain requested combat duty in Vietnam at the end of 1966.

He was assigned as a bomber pilot on an aircraft carrier in the Gulf of Tonkin.

What follows is the stuff of the McCain legend. He was shot down over Hanoi in October 1967 on his 23rd mission over North Vietnam and was badly beaten by an angry mob when he was pulled, half-drowned from a lake. Over the next five-and-a-half years in the notorious Hoa Loa Prison he was regularly tortured and mistreated.

It was in 1969 that Carol went to spend the Christmas holiday – her third without McCain – at her parents’ home. After dinner, she left to drop off some presents at a friend’s house. It wasn’t until some hours later that she was discovered, alone and in terrible pain, next to the wreckage of her car. She had been hurled through the windscreen.

After her first series of life-saving operations, Carol was told she may never walk again, but when doctors said they would try to get word to McCain about her injuries, she refused, insisting: ‘He’s got enough problems, I don’t want to tell him.’

H. Ross Perot, a billionaire Texas businessman, future presidential candidate and advocate of prisoners of war, paid for her medical care.

When McCain – his hair turned prematurely white and his body reduced to little more than a skeleton – was released in March 1973, he told reporters he was overjoyed to see Carol again.

But friends say privately he was ‘appalled’ by the change in her appearance. At first, though, he was kind, assuring her: ‘I don’t look so good myself. It’s fine.’

He bought her a bungalow near the sea in Florida and another former PoW helped him to build a railing so she could pull herself over the dunes to the water.

‘I thought, of course, we would live happily ever after,’ says Carol. But as a war hero, McCain was moving in ever-more elevated circles.

Through Ross Perot, he met Ronald Reagan, then Governor of California. A sympathetic Nancy Reagan took Carol under her wing.

But already the McCains’ marriage had begun to fray. ‘John started carousing and running around with women,’ said Robert Timberg.

McCain has acknowledged that he had girlfriends during this time, without going into details. Some friends blame his dissatisfaction with Carol, but others give some credence to her theory of a mid-life crisis.

He was also fiercely ambitious, but it was clear he would never become an admiral like his illustrious father and grandfather and his thoughts were turning to politics.

In 1979 – while still married to Carol – he met Cindy at a cocktail party in Hawaii. Over the next six months he pursued her, flying around the country to see her. Then he began to push to end his marriage.

Carol and her children were devastated. ‘It was a complete surprise,’ says Nancy Reynolds, a former Reagan aide.

‘They never displayed any difficulties between themselves. I know the Reagans were quite shocked because they loved and respected both Carol and John.’

Another friend added: ‘Carol didn’t fight him. She felt her infirmity made her an impediment to him. She justified his actions because of all he had gone through. She used to say, “He just wants to make up for lost time.”’

Indeed, to many in their circle the saddest part of the break-up was Carol’s decision to resign herself to losing a man she says she still adores.

Friends confirm she has remained friends with McCain and backed him in all his campaigns. ‘He was very generous to her in the divorce but of course he could afford to be, since he was marrying Cindy,’ one observed.

McCain transferred the Florida beach house to Carol and gave her the right to live in their jointly-owned townhouse in the Washington suburb of Alexandria. He also agreed to pay her alimony and child support.

A former neighbour says she subsequently sold up in Florida and Washington and moved in 2003 to Virginia Beach. He said: ‘My impression was that she found the new place easier to manage as she still has some difficulties walking.’

Meanwhile McCain moved to Arizona with his new bride immediately after their 1980 marriage. There, his new father-in-law gave him a job and introduced him to local businessmen and political powerbrokers who would smooth his passage to Washington via the House of Representatives and Senate.

And yet despite his popularity as a politician, there are those who won’t forget his treatment of his first wife.

Ted Sampley, who fought with US Special Forces in Vietnam and is now a leading campaigner for veterans’ rights, said: ‘I have been following John McCain’s career for nearly 20 years. I know him personally. There is something wrong with this guy and let me tell you what it is – deceit.

‘When he came home and saw that Carol was not the beauty he left behind, he started running around on her almost right away. Everybody around him knew it.

‘Eventually he met Cindy and she was young and beautiful and very wealthy. At that point McCain just dumped Carol for something he thought was better.

‘This is a guy who makes such a big deal about his character. He has no character. He is a fake. If there was any character in that first marriage, it all belonged to Carol.’

One old friend of the McCains said: ‘Carol always insists she is not bitter, but I think that’s a defence mechanism. She also feels deeply in his debt because in return for her agreement to a divorce, he promised to pay for her medical care for the rest of her life.’

Carol remained resolutely loyal as McCain’s political star rose. She says she agreed to talk to The Mail on Sunday only because she wanted to publicise her support for the man who abandoned her.

Indeed, the old Mercedes that she uses to run errands displays both a disabled badge and a sticker encouraging people to vote for her ex-husband. ‘He’s a good guy,’ she assured us. ‘We are still good friends. He is the best man for president.’

But Ross Perot, who paid her medical bills all those years ago, now believes that both Carol McCain and the American people have been taken in by a man who is unusually slick and cruel – even by the standards of modern politics.

‘McCain is the classic opportunist. He’s always reaching for attention and glory,’ he said.

‘After he came home, Carol walked with a limp. So he threw her over for a poster girl with big money from Arizona. And the rest is history.’

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