♪♪ -Next on "POV"... -How long do you think you're gonna work there for?

-Karla Murthy reflects on her father's journey to America and the life he sought to build.

A portrait of family, the immigrant experience, and the dreams we carry with us.

-Good night.

-Take care.

I love you.

I love you, too.

-"The Gas Station Attendant" on "POV."

♪♪ [ Line ringing ] -Hello?

-Dad?

-Hello?

-Dad?

-Hello!

-Dad.

-Hello?

-Dad!

Can you hear me?

-Karla?

-Can you hear me?

-Hello?

♪♪ ♪♪ -Maybe it's in my DNA, but I always knew I'd move away from home.

♪♪ After college, I followed my friends to New York.

One of my sisters had just moved there too.

All I had to my name were a couple of suitcases and a lot of student loans.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do or who I was going to be.

But I knew I couldn't ask my parents for help.

At the time, they had a gift and jewelry store that wasn't doing so well.

My mom also worked as a nurse, but it wasn't enough to pay all the bills.

So my dad found a part-time job working the overnight shift at a gas station near our home in Texas.

When he told me he was working at the gas station, I got that familiar feeling in my chest like this weight.

Hi.

My name is Karla and... I was worried, and I wish I didn't have to worry.

[ Line ringing ] I started seeing my dad in every gas station I'd pass.

[ Ringing continues ] [ Beeping ] -I tried not to let my mind go to those dark places.

But I couldn't stop thinking how people would see my dad now.

As the butt of a joke.

-Okay, Apu, be strong.

-An easy target.

-...Sunday night, when he pointed a rifle at the store clerk.

-A scapegoat.

-You've been working at this gas station for like 50 years... and every time I see you, I hope that you disappear!

-But I kept those thoughts to myself.

-That was the thing about my dad.

He always kept going.

[ Classical music playing ] -Okay.

Here goes the turkey.

Turkey, turkey.

There.

Okay, darling.

That's done.

Here's the cheesecake.

-Mm.

-Got it?

-Mm-hmm.

-Do you want a beer?

-Sure.

[ Chuckles ] -Bye.

-I'm not sure what year I shot this, but it was at least 20 years ago.

I have a big complicated family.

My dad is from India, and my mom's from the Philippines.

I have two older sisters, Sheilah and Prema, and my twin sister, Marla.

I'm the one sitting on my mom's lap.

I wish I could have known her as an adult.

Especially now that I'm a mom.

Don't go backwards!

But she died when I was eight years old.

Eventually, my dad remarried my stepmom, who's also from the Philippines.

I've always called her my mom, too.

And then came along my little brothers, Nathan and Jonathan.

I know it's a lot of people to keep track of... -Too many turkeys... -Even my dad would call us by the wrong name.

But he was the one that reminded us of each other's birthdays... -Daddy!

-...and always made sure we had a plane ticket home -Happy Thanksgiving.

-Hello, kid.

Can I have a hug, too?

-No.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dad.

-Okay, go wash up.

-Happy Thanksgiving, Karla!

-Okay, ready to eat.

Lord, pray for the... -My dad told us that when he was a baby in India his palm was read.

It was predicted that he would cross the seven seas.

He was always running and running.

And now that he's gone, I keep wondering, where did it lead him?

I came across an article in "The New York Times" about the proliferation of South Asian-run gas stations.

It was titled... There was a line that caught my eye.

Quote... I've been trying to make sense of my dad's choices, but can I ever really know what his life was like in the old country?

Or can I only imagine it?

-Sometimes, as the night wore on, my dad would reminisce about his life in India.

So we started recording our conversations together.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -♪ If your transmission's got you down ♪ ♪ Or your motor falls apart ♪ -My childhood memories growing up in Texas are a little different from my dad's.

-♪ We put the yee-haw back in your motor and transmission ♪ -♪ Houston Oilers!

♪ ♪ Houston Oilers number one!

♪ -Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters.

-♪ I'm sitting on top of the world... ♪ -I had daydreams that the Murthy sisters would one day have our own show.

Back then, there were only a handful of Indian families in our neighborhood.

Definitely no Indian-Filipino families.

Today, it's one of the most diverse areas in the country.

My parents moved to Missouri City, a suburb of Houston, in the late 1970s.

When it was founded in the 1890s, it was advertised as a land of genial sunshine and eternal summer.

In the late 1960s, a country club community was developed called Quail Valley.

The subdivision was built around an 18-hole golf course.

But our house was in Quail Valley East.

Not Country Club Quail Valley, but adjacent to, within reach.

We may not have had a golf course backyard, but we did have a house in a cul-de-sac, which means "bottom of the sack" in French.

For my parents, it meant peace and safety.

Whenever I come home to visit, I like to walk by our old house.

We lived here until I was in middle school.

This time, I knocked at the door and a man answered.

I told him I used to live here a long time ago and asked if I could take some pictures.

He said sure.

While I was standing there, I got a glimpse of the kitchen through the window.

And it all looks so much smaller than what I remembered.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ This was the land of genial sunshine.

♪♪ Of cowboys and Indians.

And tar-speckled beaches.

♪♪ Horses and highways.

The land of stars and space.

♪♪ And Friday night football.

♪♪ But after my mom died, we couldn't afford a house in a cul-de-sac anymore.

So when my dad remarried, we moved around the corner.

This time, I labeled the tape.

It was just a few years after I had moved to New York.

My parents had closed the store.

So the new plan was to sell their merchandise at trade shows all around the country.

My dad stopped working at the gas station so he could go on these trips.

He often went alone while my mom worked at the hospital.

So I'd come home to help him out and keep him company for a few days on the road.

-From Hawaii here -Karla, are you taping this junk, mess?

-I have to practice, new camera.

I have a lot of footage of this trip.

It was the most time I had ever spent with my dad, just the two of us.

Well, except later, when he was in the hospital.

So, tell me where we're going.

-Oh, we are going to New Orleans for a gift and jewelry show.

We left about, oh, almost 5:00 this morning.

We are about 223 miles from Houston.

We just close to Lafayette.

And I'm glad I got my helper this time.

She came all the way from New York just to help me out.

-So how do you think you're going to do the show?

-How I'm going to do the show?

Well, I hope I'll do better this time than what we did in August.

And November's supposed to be a good show because a lot of people buy things for Christmas.

Again, go there with the high hopes.

See what happens.

Hope we'll make it this time.

♪♪ -There have been many, many times that we didn't make it.

Each followed by a new plan and high hopes.

It was pattern that began before I was born.

When my dad first came to the States, he studied to be an electrical engineer at the University of Houston.

He got his first real job in Seattle, working for Boeing during an airline industry boom.

It was a dream job.

But then the bubble burst.

-Boeing 747 commercial jets have not been selling as well as expected... -On the verge of bankruptcy in the early '70s, the company laid off my dad, along with 50,000 other workers.

-Applications for food stamps up three times those of a year ago... -It created a devastating ripple effect across the region.

-Thousands of people have left the city, gone elsewhere, looking for work, leaving empty apartments and unsold houses behind them... -But my dad wasn't ready to call it quits.

He took matters into his own hands and formed a new company with other laid off Boeing engineers.

They tried to export micromanipulators, a device used with microscopes.

And when that didn't work out, 10-speed bikes.

But the company failed to take off.

Something about a lack of capital.

So my dad moved on and came up with more new plans.

By the time my twin sister and I were born, we were on to our second Indian restaurant called The Banyan Tree.

One of my earliest memories is learning how to fold cloth napkins there.

But Indian food wasn't popular back then.

So when I was four, we moved back to Texas, where my parents had first met.

He tried selling children's clothes and then medical supplies.

He worked with scientists at the University of Houston on drug development.

He had business partners in Panama, Nicaragua, Nigeria, and Gabon.

He'd been a manager at McDonald's and Denny's.

We had the dollar store, the travel agency, the gift and jewelry store.

He worked as a gas station attendant.

When I was a kid, I thought it was all part of an exciting adventure.

What was my dad up to now?

He was never afraid to chart a new way forward.

But as I got older, I started to see how each new idea also took its toll.

Left more unpaid bills, more debts and disappointments in its wake.

Why was he so restless?

♪♪ -Gandhi, leader in achieving Indian self-rule... -Great throngs of grieving natives paid final homage to their lost leader.

-Violence spread along the frontier.

15 million people were in flight.

-I left home for good when I was 18.

Is it like a button?

-Yeah.

-Can you see it?

-No.

-Not doing anything?

-Oh, [bleep].

[ Indistinct conversation ] -Yeah.

-Do you know what?

There's a fade button on this camera.

-Well, how do you fade it back in?

Say, "That's all, folks."

-That's all folks.

-I just faded in... -[ Laughs ] Girls!

Whoo!

I was determined to get out of Texas.

So I got a scholarship to cover my tuition to go to college in Ohio.

I still had to keep my grades up and work in the dining hall and take out thousands of dollars in student loans.

But I felt liberated.

♪♪ I made friends that I would have for life.

I even met my future husband.

But now when I look at myself, I see somebody who doesn't really know where she's from or where she's going.

♪♪ I had a dream to become a concert pianist.

I started taking lessons when I was four years old.

♪♪ I knew the lessons were expensive, and I was grateful my parents never brought it up, at least not with me.

♪♪ Every time I got a new piece to learn, it was like Christmas.

♪♪ But things changed as I got older.

Dad... -I got into a performing and visual art high school... ...and I was suddenly surrounded by kids who all had the same dream.

I would practice hours a day.

Like an athlete.

Running the scales, arpeggios, soaking my hands in hot water, stretching my fingers so I could play tenths faster and more precisely.

♪♪ But I was never good enough.

And the wrong notes stood out way more than the right ones.

♪♪ [ Applause ] So when I went off to college, I quit.

I never played for an audience again.

Oh, really?

-Hi, Karla.

-Hi.

All that time and money and sacrifice.

And for what?

-No.

Karla, get up.

You can take a nap later.

♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ ♪ Lord God omnipotent reigneth ♪ ♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, ♪ ♪ King of kings ♪ ♪ Lord of lords ♪ ♪ And he shall reign forever... ♪ We'll stop in Exit 111 Okay, Karla?

So you can have your bagel.

Must be hungry, huh?

This is my friend Donna, and this is Mr.

Roy.

One and only the... Crawfish... -Crawfisherman.

-Crawfisherman.

He had his own PBS documentary made a few years back.

I think a matter of fact two you said, right?

What's the name?

Tell me again.

-"Conserving America" -"Conserving America" and then other one?

-The other one's "Where the Water Goes" -"Where the Water Goes" Okay, Karla?

Maybe you can check it out.

-Yes, I will.

-Okay.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Do not try before noon to get into the hall All that will do is create a traffic jam.

Thank you.

-Hope we'll do good today.

I hope you're having fun.

Okay?

There comes some customer.

Can I help you?

Just looking, just looking.

This one... twenty.

You can put them on a chain... -Do y'all have other watches?

-That's all I have left.

I didn't bring any.

We sold out the other ones.

You're welcome.

[ Beeping ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -When my dad recounted that story over one of our late night calls, it wasn't the first time I had heard it.

But now that my kids are the same age as my dad was when he left home... ...it's different.

Wanna get lunch soon?

-Yeah.

You should have taken them.

They're getting out from here.

-Oh, well.

Hey, this is getting out of the house take two.

Bye, Nate!

Hey, come towards me, guys.

Here they come.

-Bye!

-Bye!

They get in the car, okay.

That's Karla.

That's Miriam Marla was holding the kid.

-This is Nathan's first trip to India.

-Thanks, Dad.

Oh, yeah I'm supposed to get in the car, too.

-I've gone to India three times, all with my dad.

-That's enough, Sheilah.

-Bye, Grandma!

-Bye, Grandma!

-We're gone.

♪♪ -Even though we were going to a country where everyone looked like us for a change, I always felt like I was going to a place I should know better.

-Like you to board at this time... ♪♪ ♪♪ I'm so glad my kids got a chance to go to India with my dad on our last trip.

♪♪ Although I'm not sure how much they remember.

♪♪ On that trip, my dad performed a puja, an offering to honor our ancestors.

It was one of the few times I've ever worn a sari.

My dad converted to Christianity when he came to the States, but he always respected our family's Hindu traditions or tried to.

[ Indistinct speaking in Hindi ] ♪♪ -These trips to India were a pilgrimage for my dad.

It was a chance for him to document how far he had come and what was left behind.

-Well, not all our names.

♪♪ ♪♪ -When he left, he could no longer pass on the name that told us where we were from.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Names work differently here.

We pass immortalized strangers and street signs every day.

Who are they?

Where were they from?

What kinds of lives did they lead?

♪♪ ♪♪ There's this convenience store a couple of blocks from our home in Missouri City.

The clerk who worked there was beloved by many in our neighborhood.

He knew all his customers by name, but few knew his.

His name was Ashok Bhattarai.

He was from Nepal.

Bhat means scholar.

Rai means king.

His parents had taken out a loan to send him to Texas for college.

He was killed in a robbery one night just after his 21st birthday.

The description of him in the paper reminded me of my dad.

Residents talked about his generous nature and friendly charm.

Quote, "Nobody who came to the store was a stranger to him.

I never did know his name, but he knew mine."

-This evening, we come gather together as one body representing different individual households, different walks of life, different walks of faith.

-A memorial was held outside the store the day after his death.

-To celebrate the life lived of a community figure that we have all come to know, come to love, come to grow fond of.

-The parking lot turned into pews.

-We pray right now, God, that you heal this community.

We pray right now that you come in and fill the empty void.

-In Nepal, the story of his death was covered in the national news, sparking a debate if emigrating to the United States is really worth it.

[ Newsreader speaking Hindi ] ♪♪ I wonder if my dad ever questioned coming here.

If it was everything he dreamed it would be.

♪♪ -Karla, you have to be on TV.

-I'm just getting all my dad and his friends.

-Did you get a picture, or this is on video?

-Yeah.

-Oh, okay.

-We visited his home.

Very nice gentlemen.

Yeah, me -- -You didn't meet my daughter, did you?

-No, I didn't.

I was always amazed how my dad made friends wherever he went, a trait I did not inherit.

Did you guys do good business?

-Yes, we did.

We made lots of money.

-This is my friend, Teri.

-Mr.

Murthy comes to every show.

-Oh, yeah.

-And he is so sweet to me.

He has the softest hands.

-Uh-oh.

[ Laughter ] -So this is Bill.

-From South Carolina.

He promised to sell my booth today.

-Right.

-And I'm not going to hold my breath, but I trust him.

He's going to do it.

-Right.

-He would also give out thank you gifts to people that seem to me like strangers.

A six-pack for the mechanic that inspected our car, Christmas presents for the guys at the airport who checked our bags curbside, a turkey at Thanksgiving for the hotel workers near our house where we sometimes took family vacations.

-I met him in 2001?

-When I was a teenager, his friendliness would sometimes embarrass me.

-Good to see ya!

You take care, buddy.

-And I'm starting to see now that being friendly was how he got by in the world.

-Junior.

-Hello, Junior.

-Next in line to make the crawfish bread.

-Yeah.

-How you do it?

Or you don't want to get involved in the bread?

Just like my daughter, she don't want anything to do with dad's... They're nice guys.

Really.

-So how's business, Dad?

-It's okay.

Yeah, it's better.

Could be better.

But it's okay.

We'll survive.

Thanks for you to come here again.

For helping me out.

Now you know what we are going through.

See, we have nobody.

They buy junk.

$3, $2 item They sell like crazy.

-Most of the time I tried to avoid what he was going through and all the emotions that came with it.

Just like I avoided walking down Sixth Street in the East Village.

When I first moved to New York, there were 26 Indian restaurants along these blocks.

I remember wondering why they didn't spread out over the city so they didn't have to compete with each other.

The owners would stand in front, beckoning to people walking by to come and eat at their restaurant.

I would see my dad in every doorway asking me for help.

But I could have used some help to.

I was barely scraping by, taking whatever jobs I could get.

I temped, was a hostess, designed websites answered phones.

But I was in my 20s and in New York City, so I made good use of that first credit card, trying to keep up with everyone else.

Dancing and dancing my way deeper into my own debt.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ On the way home one night, I threw up in the cab.

I was so embarrassed.

And then I left my purse behind.

I lost my wallet, my keys, and the plane ticket my dad bought me.

I was supposed to fly home the next day for Christmas.

The next morning, I called home and lied.

A couple of weeks later, I found a package at my door.

It was my purse, wrapped in paper and twine, with a note from the taxi driver apologizing for taking so long to drop it off.

He'd been waiting to get a fare back to my neighborhood.

I wish I could have thanked him, just like my dad would have, but he didn't leave his name.

The day before the show ended, my dad got sick.

He had a fever, chills, headache.

I took over the booth for a few hours so he could rest.

But I'm a terrible salesperson.

He always stayed at the same hotel when he came to New Orleans.

The Sheraton on Canal.

He must have gotten a good deal here.

I think my dad's favorite pastime was looking for the best rates on hotels and plane tickets.

My parents loved to travel and spent whatever extra money they managed to save on our family vacations.

♪♪ My brother told us this story about when dad took him on a Boy Scout camping trip.

After two days, he said, "Let's get out of here.

I had enough sleeping outside when I was a kid."

So they checked into a hotel for the rest of the trip.

♪♪ Hotels were special.

The stuff of dreams.

An escape.

A portal to another world.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -That night, at 2:00 in the morning, a couple from Houston, Texas, arrived named Mr.

and Mrs.

Kern.

They were tired and hungry and asked my dad for some food.

Even though the kitchen was closed, somehow my dad managed to get them something to eat.

-They sponsored my dad to come study and work in the States.

♪♪ ♪♪ -They passed away some time ago, so I can't ask them these questions myself.

Why my dad?

But I imagine that my dad was charming and helpful and went above and beyond.

And that he told them his life story, running away from home, living on the streets, and his dreams for a better life.

And it was enough for them to take a chance on this young, friendly hotel worker they met for just a few hours.

They brought him halfway around the world to live and work in their home, enrolled him in high school, and then sent him to college... ...where he ended up at a party for international students, and met a woman named Bula from the Philippines.

♪♪ ♪♪ Which eventually led to me.

Which eventually led to us.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -We are gathered here today from three different continents, from four different nations, and from both the Pacific and the Atlantic shores of this nation.

We have come to rejoice with them as they make a sacred and life-forming commitment to each other.

-Somehow, you may not believe, but I strongly believe because of his hand here, we came from a different part of the world, meet somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and here we.

Here we are together to celebrate this wonderful occasion.

[ Cheers and applause ] ♪♪ -Whoo!

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Hi, babe.

Hope you enjoyed your trip.

Taking care of your sick father.

Thank goodness that you are with me.

Okay, let's go upstairs and have some tea.

Cheers, kid.

-Hey, Dad, say something.

-Oh, what can I say?

What do you want me to say?

How I feel -- I feel lousy.

Linda.

Come here, my dear.

This is our best friend here.

One and only, in New Orleans in the Sheraton.

-I hope I get to see his wife next time, too.

-She is a really good lady.

-Because she's very sweetie and this is a good guy.

-This is the kind of -- -Oh, my goodness.

-When the boys were -- -These are all your sisters?

-Yep.

-Two brothers?

-Yeah.

My two baby -- they're not so little anymore.

-Yeah.

-See how they look, the boys.

-Oh, my, oh, look at these.

Nice handsome boys.

Oh, you have a beautiful family.

Yes, indeed.

-Thank you.

-Oh, yes.

No wonder your wife's at home.

She's resting.

You kept her busy.

-The stories behind our smiling family photos are complicated and sometimes painful to tell.

-Hope to see your other sisters.

-But isn't everyone's?

Reminds me of the saying my cousin recently told me while we were cooking about all families having problems.

-How do you say them in Kannada?

-[ Speaking Kannada ] -Everybody's dosas have holes in them.

This crazy-ass knot.

I need two hands.

I came across this article about parenting titled "Family Stories Aren't Fairytales, but Kids Still Need to Hear Them."

Stories are a way of preserving family history, but more importantly, they create a sense of continuity and resilience.

They build a framework to understand painful experiences and celebrate joy for once.

And so I'm telling these stories.

This model of the Taj Mahal used to sit on the piano.

As a child, I wanted to believe that it was a palace built by a king for his wife for them to live happily ever after in.

But in reality, it's a mausoleum.

He built it after she died.

Her body is buried beneath it.

♪♪ -This is the Taj Mahal, one of the Seven Wonders in the world, built by Shah Jahan for his sweet wife.

♪♪ -The summer of 1980, my family took a trip around the world.

This was my first time visiting India.

♪♪ ♪♪ It was also my first time to the Philippines, my mother's homeland.

♪♪ ♪♪ We didn't know it would be her last trip home.

♪♪ We went to the beaches of her youth, and my cousins dove to the bottom of the ocean and brought us coral that we packed in our luggage to bring home.

♪♪ It is a time-traveling gift to see your parents in the places that made them, surrounded by people who look like them, sound like them, eat like them.

♪♪ How I now understood that the hard sand beaches of Galveston could never compare to the beaches of home.

♪♪ ♪♪ By the time we got to Rome, my mom was already so sick that she never left the hotel.

She told us it must be all the mangoes she ate in the Philippines.

♪♪ ♪♪ When we got home at the end of summer, the doctors found the tumor and my dad started working nights as a manager at a Denny's restaurant.

On the day she died, she sat outside in the sun.

I remember opening the windows so she could hear me play my favorite piece on the piano.

[ Indistinct conversations ] ♪♪ -We're heading back home.

We should be home around 10:00.

Oh, it's about six hours drive.

Then we got some calls from my -- your mom.

She is worried about the bills, that I didn't make the payment on time.

As usual.

See, darling, when you get married, you're going to get all these problems.

I know you're already in debt problem anyway.

Maybe you're doing better management than I am.

Just don't get upset.

Just agree with your boyfriend, husband-to-be.

Don't argue.

Just say, "Okay, I'll take care of it."

That's all it takes.

Speak soft and sweetly.

Okay?

I love you.

[ Smooches ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -On the drive home, I thought about the many questions I never asked out loud.

Like why you couldn't just get a real job.

Stick with one thing.

What was the next plan going to be?

I wish I had been brave enough to talk to him about it.

Maybe it would have helped.

♪♪ But I was glad to go back to New York without any answers.

Get back to my life.

Hey.

I had gotten a job at a film production company.

I had a lot to learn, but I loved the work.

-What the hell are you doing?

God, sticking that thing in my freaking nose.

And my husband-to-be and I moved in together to a place we still live in today with our kids, in a neighborhood where the streets are named after people, a general of the Revolutionary War, a wealthy shoe salesman, an engineer and inventor.

I could finally envision a path in front of me.

[ Line ringing ] Dad?

-Yeah, babe?

-But when I talk with my dad, I'd feel that weight on my chest again.

-Oh, I don't know.

-Mm-hmm.

-Whatever I have has been spent.

-I knew he was treading water and I knew it couldn't last.

-Keep trying.

Hopefully something will stick soon.

-And then one night he called me while I was at the laundromat.

I got angry, I raised my voice.

He told me not to speak to him that way.

I found out that he had put some of his debts in my name, without me knowing.

Thousands and thousands of dollars.

I know he thought he could take care of it, but I knew there was no way.

If he defaulted, I defaulted.

♪♪ ♪♪ I felt trapped.

♪♪ ♪♪ That Christmas, my sister and I did the planning.

We found a house to rent in Covert, Michigan, a town none of us had heard of before.

But it was affordable and we could all drive there.

No plane tickets this time.

And for a few days, no one brought up anything related to money.

[ Indistinct conversations ] Fine.

Karla's filming me right now.

[ Laughs ] And then we stopped at this like -- what's it called?

-- convenience store to get directions.

And there was some Punjabis in there, and they said -- they asked my sis-- Prema, you know, "What are guys doing in Covert, Michigan?"

[ Laughs ] I told -- I told her she should've said, "What are you doing here?"

[ Laughs ] -Alright, let's do this Christmas tree, Kar.

Should we just use logs or tape?

Maybe the log idea?

-The log.

-Why?

-The rustic log look.

-[ Laughs ] -Alright.

-This is the remnants of our food.

-My dad's money problems took its toll on all of us in different ways.

But it was Christmas, and I think we were all just trying to be grateful that we could be together.

[ All shouting ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -Testing 1, 2, 3, testing, testing.

-Alright there, mike check, mike check.

-Mike check, mike check.

-♪ I'm searching for a place ♪ ♪ Is anybody here I know?

♪ ♪ 'Cause nothing's going right ♪ ♪ And everything's a mess ♪ ♪ And no one likes to be alone ♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Do you know this song, Jon?

-♪ I'm with you, yeah ♪ ♪ Oh, why is everything so confusing?

♪ -Well, my dear Karla Sitha Hope, Marla Vanitha Joy, thank you for making this possible.

I love you.

-4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18... -When I look at this footage now, I can see that this was the beginning of the end.

That although we were together, we were already drifting apart.

-27, 28... -I don't think it's working.

-Okay.

Ready?

Go.

-Positions, please.

-Oh, there it goes!

[ Camera beeps ] [ Camera shutter clicks ] [ Birds chirping ] -As time went on, I managed to pay off both of our debts.

It took years.

And my parents moved to Hot Springs, Arkansas, a cheaper place to retire.

And my dad continued to hatch new plans.

Meanwhile, I was focused on my own family.

-Daddy, see the moon?

-I do see it.

-And although it was hard sometimes, I had never dreamed my life would look like this, would feel so complete.

-Mommy's taking a picture.

-She is.

-Yeah.

-"Father Bear waits.

He yawns a rumbly yawn."

-I kept waiting for something to happen to take it all away.

What do you call it?

-Frozen Mom.

It's when your mom gets frozen in the ice.

He's coming!

-He's coming?

-He's coming!

[ Line ringing, swings squeaking ] -Hi, Karla Sitha.

This is Dad.

Give me a call.

Bye.

-I stopped calling to check up on my dad.

And when I saw his number come up on my phone, I would more often than not let it go to voicemail.

[ Line ringing ] -Hi, Karla, this is Dad.

Would you please call me?

[ Line ringing ] Hi, sweetie.

This is Dad.

I really need to talk to you.

-When I did pick up the phone, he would say, "Hello, stranger," and I'd feel guilty for avoiding him.

But when I got the call from my mom that he had had a heart attack, I came to Arkansas to help.

I slept in a pullout chair next to his bed in the ICU for days so my mom could take a break.

But you never really sleep in the ICU.

I'm not sure if he knew I was there.

He was unconscious.

But there were moments when his eyes fluttered open.

When my family all arrived, I decided to go home for a few days to see my kids.

I thought he would keep going like he always did.

But the next morning, he died.

All of my family was there with him, surrounding his hospital bed.

All of his children, except for me.

They texted me this photo of what the sky looked like as he took his last breaths.

And so here I am, stuck in a time warp, reliving the past while trying to live in the present.

Looking for answers.

Wondering what it means to be a good father, a good daughter, a good mother.

How I wish I just had more time.

Dad, how did you get up and keep going?

I had heard him say that phrase so many times before, but like so many things now, it's different.

[ Organ playing ] ♪♪ I went back to Arkansas recently.

Even though I'm not really religious anymore, I still like going to my parents' church when I'm there.

This is where my dad made some of his closest friends.

He even joined the choir.

He wasn't the best singer, but that didn't seem to matter to him or to anyone else.

♪♪ I think a lot now about what it took for my dad to survive, to keep going as long as he did.

He never stayed in one place too long.

He made friends wherever he went.

He sang with joy.

And like the meaning of his name, Shantha, he found peace.

-Let us pray.

Into your hands, oh, merciful savior, we command your servant Hanabe Shantha Murthy.

Receive him into the arms of your mercy and into the blessed rest of everlasting peace.

And now I charge you to go out into the world in peace and have courage.

Pick someone else up off the street and give them a new life.

Amen.

[ Piano playing ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -My dad told us that when he died, he wanted to be cremated.

He said he wanted all of us to have some of his ashes.

"Spread a little of me wherever you want."

So he's in the Kaveri River in India... ♪♪ ♪♪ ...the Berkeley Hills... ...the Pacific Ocean... ♪♪ ...a church in Arkansas... ♪♪ ...a cemetery in Houston... ♪♪ ♪♪ ...and in my sock drawer... ...wrapped in one of his shirts.

I haven't quite figured out what to do with it yet.

♪♪ But I have a feeling he wouldn't mind if I just kept them there.

♪♪ ♪♪ -Okay, sweetie.

-Okay.

-You better go to bed.

Must be up after 1:00 there.

-Yeah, but you know, it's Saturday night.

-Saturday night, okay.

-Yeah.

-Yeah, if you want, call me tomorrow.

-Okay.

-Okay.

-Good night.

-Good night.

-Take care, I love you.

-I love you, too.

-Bye.

-Bye.

[ Call ends ] ♪♪ [ Music fades ] [ Static crackles ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪