Only in New York !

So I've been spending a lot of time in the Big Apple lately - and I must say I truly enjoy it.

From being able to travel the length and breadth of the city in a matter of minutes, being able to walk to Times Square and its associated attractions. hail a cab and get anyplace you want - all of these are very liberating. But there is also the huge variety of food - beautifully presented and always fresh.

So here are a few things that I thought were peculiar.

One Sunday afternoon - I took a cab to Brewster station and rode into the city. I arrived in NY with my work clothes and briefcase to pouring rain. There was a fellow selling umbrellas outside the station- but the umbrella did not have a prayer of protecting my luggage. And so, I stood under an awning watching the taxi line grow longer - cos I could not risk getting my work clothes wet. Finally, when it stopped raining - I joined the end of the line.... It was heartening to note that the policeman made sure that no one got a cab out of turn. Only in NY.........

I have seen rickshaws in many countries in the world. Certainly, in India, we are used to thinking of the rickshaw wallah as an exploited, aging man, who struggles through his day. So imagine my surprise when I was approached by a rickshaw wallah on the corner of 57th street and 5th Ave. He was young, white, very fit and very handsome. He looked like he was driving the rickshaw for sport. Only in NY.........

Leafing thru the book in the hotel - I realized that I was within walking distance of a Deepak Chopra center. And that they offered free Guided Meditation. So I thought I'd go and check it out.

It was in Times Square, adjacent to a large Social Club. I walked into that first - and was politely shown the way out.

The Deepak Chopra center is set up like any other New Age spa - though its basement meditation room is truly beautiful. At 6 in the evening , a few others arrived after work. The usual Yoga crowd - some pale, some soft and chubby and me.

The Guided meditation was led by a young white skinned woman who sounded like she had been raised in America. She could not have been more than 24 years old. She started the practice.
She asked us to think about who we were, and what we wanted.. and then without warning asked us to close our eyes and meditate. Fifteen minutes later she tinked a little bell - asked us to say Om and open our eyes.

I've been ripped off many times in the guise of yoga and meditation - but this really took the cake. Fortunately, this was also a free guided meditation, so all I lost was my time.. which in NY can be pretty darned expensive

The Energy of Youth

This past weekend, I attended a wedding in Missisauga, Canada - a Toronto suburb favored heavily by new immigrants.

There were many things to be joyful about -the wedding, my first North American Family reunion after returning from India, seeing my niece Lily after 4 years, seeing my friend Christine and her family in their new home in Canada, celebrating my mother's 80th birthday.. the list goes on and on. ..

But what struck me most was the energy, vitality and power exuded by the young people of Canada... surely the world is theirs to conquer.

Take for example the wedding that I was at.

While I am sure my cousin contributed to the preparations and the design , and I am certain that his wife watched over the preparations very carefully - there was an indelible signature to the whole event, and surely it was that of the bride and her sister.

Gorgeous in appearance, capable of putting any Bollywood star to shame - the young girls costumes were very carefully designed, their jewellry dazzling.

The celebrations had all the yearning and nostalgia for the old and familiar, but the execution was very here and now. The first event was the Mehndi - the bride and her immediate family - had had theirs done a day earlier - so they could mingle with their guests. An efficient mehndi-walli decorated palms in under 90 seconds - gorgeous and beautiful designs. There was dancing - to current Bollywood tunes.

Similarly the wedding was meticulously choreographed, as was the first dance. The evening drew from Gujrati weddings, Western practices as well as North Indian culture - so there was the formal Gujrati Kanya daan and Phera and Vidaai; then the Bridal March, followed by the bridal dance - a solo performance by one of the bride's cousins and many many toasts. This was followed by a good measure of balle balle. All the menus were carefully picked out - and we tasted a range of foods in the 3 days.

Young Anurag, our 8 year old nephew who was visiting from London, went to the grocery store with Shruti and my uncle to pick out a birthday cake for mom. Man- I had forgotten how good chocolate cake tastes. And the sheer joy of having the candle play a silly tune at the oddest of times.

Christine's older son - all of 16 years old - was doing errands around the house helping his parents with home improvement projects. Her younger son - showed incredible focus on the Nintendo screen - followed by an amazing ability to spin around in circles forever.

Sunali's kids grew up fast while I was gone - they read big books and participate in grown-up conversations when they get in the mood. And I thought they were playing on their little hand held device all the time.

Shruti took the spotlight in all the political debates with her strong position on Barak Obama. Lily delighted her grandmother by wearing all the jewellry and the sarees that grandma wanted to dress her in. She then went and got her other hand and both feet hennaed. Both girls wore saris - and energetically ran around, fetching and carrying and ferrying their grandparents around.

And it occurred to me that all of a sudden, there were a lot of young people that were directing the course of events around us - participating in and changing the world we live on, and the traditions we mauled only a decade or so ago.. ..

And for just one tiny moment, I wished I could exchange places with them...... be as young, as energetic, as beautiful, have my whole life ahead of me.

Of course when I thought about it a little longer - I am happy not to have any more choruses or encores or refrains....... These extra pounds, this fading youth - they have all given me the ability to appreciate youth - I remember how I thought it was a tiresome thing and could not wait to be all grown up.... and so I dedicate this blog to the energy of youth.

Back in the USA !!!

June 13th, 2008 - I formally returned to the USA... I left most of the desi clothes, the image and the lifestyle behind - soon to become a memory as we all move onto new things and heal our bleeding hearts.

When the packers were in the house all 12 of them, and my 2 colleagues, and the 2 maids, Preeti's husband and 2 of his own helpers , and the 2 cousin's with their chauffeur and my chauffeur - and the packing was in full swing - my intrepid niece called.

She asked if I could talk - I told her about the packers - "its kind of important" she said...... "What's up ? " I asked - "Prashant" whom she has known for more than a year, "proposed last night - I wanted to talk it over with you ..." The protective aunt emerged from behind the packing cases and stuff - and we had a long chat - other people supervised the packers - now I can't tell which box has my saris.. It matters not - She can organize the sari for me along with all the other stuff she has to organize.

But back to the USA.

It is difficult to describe how I felt, returning to an empty house on the side of Stormville Mountain. The car battery had died. There was no edible food in the house. No one to fetch me food, and no one to talk to. No long distance service on the phone. Fortunately the cable tv and the wireless modem were still functional. It was quiet and peaceful, and the deer were running around in the distance.

I forced myself to call a garage and get the car started. I made an appointment to have the car serviced. I bought some long distance calling cards over the internet. Exhausted with the effort, I went to sleep.

Early next morning, cos the jet lag was still there, I drove to my favorite grocery store and picked out fresh fruit, like I had not had a chance to do in the past 3 years. I savored every minute of driving around the countryside.

My brother and sister-in-law who were in NY for a visit came upto visit. My niece Shruti carried the suitcases up, and her mother unpacked and helped me put all the stuff away. The suitcase now remains exactly where Shruti left it 3 Saturdays ago - in the hall waiting to be taken down to the basement.

I moped around the house for 2 weeks, getting various things set up and getting back into the mode of living by myself - I miss most my maid Salyani, who would put my stuff away.

Since last week I have been travelling into NY city, rediscovering the joy and independence that NYC offers. And there are people here - lots of people. I think I could get used to living here.

NY Blitz

I was still in India. I had accepted a position in NY, and was winding down my operations in Delhi, when I got the call.

"We need you to come to NY for a meeting. " "How many days should I plan on ?" "Just 1". And just like that I joined the ranks of the people that spend 20 hours travelling to a place to spend just 20 hours in another place, and travel another 20 to return home.

Fortunately for me - flight schedules beign what they are , I was scheduled to spend 2 nights in NY.

I took the non-stop from Delhi to Chicago - hoping to be in NY by 9am. The flight was late - very late - I reached NY at 1:30pm. Quick shower, and I rushed to the office to be briefed on the morning's meeting.

Delhi had been burning - about 120 degrees. New York was a perfect 72.

I had a leisurely dinner at a peaceful little Italian restaurant - no crowds, no hustle - a stark contrast to Gurgaon.

Next morning it was raining hard - now who would have expected rain...I bought an umbrella on the street and continued on to the client meeting - at 1 NY Plaza. A gorgeous building that had views of the Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Staten Island Ferry and NJ all from the 1 room.

Meeting went well. We finished our post mortem.

And I returned to the hotel around 3pm - I had to buy a wallet for my niece. That was the only remaining errand before I caught the flight out the next morning.

In my room, I sat on the bed - just for a minute - when I woke up it was 2am and everything around was closed.

I was also starving.

I waited till 6am and walked over to Ellen's Stardust diner - opens at 8 for breakfast !!!! so I walked around - I saw people lining up to get into the studios of the various morning shows - the city was slowly coming awake.

Finally found a diner that would serve me breakfast - was done by 7am. 2 hours to go before i had to leave... I walked, I shopped. it started to rain. None of the hawkers were going to show up today. So I returned to my room at 8am and napped for an hour.

Back to the airport and to Delhi. 44 hours after I had arrived in the city on my NY Blitz - refreshed, energized and ready to return.

Just When You Thought it Was Getting Better ....!

Can't resist this one guys. I had an absolutely harrowing time at Indira Gandhi International this time.. Maybe I should rename this blog IGI Log - might get more hits that way..........

But just when I thought the Delhi airport was showing signs of getting better - it slipped way back into the 18th century. I was headed for a 2 day trip to NY (sounds good doesn't it ? actually it is kinda insane). And I had my ticket all booked on American Airlines - so what if it only took 2 days to get it right ......

I got to the airport around 9:15 - minor congestion around the terminal... got in easy enough.. .in and out of the baggage screening and was #2 in line at the AA First Class Check-In Counter. I did not have a first class ticket but hope abounds.

10 mins later the pretty woman told us that it would take a little more time to check us in. The computers were down... Computers are down! Who the hell runs your computers - but I only muttered that to myself.. we have a long relationship with American Airlines, and it is possible one of my colleagues in another country runs them.. So I stood there patiently watching the line grow longer and longer - shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

90 mins later I was handed a scrap of handwritten boarding pass (which even the immigration officer laughed at)... and manually checked in. Forget about upgrade, I did not even have a seat assignment. There were another 300 people needing to be manually checked in after me.

So I quietly walked into immigration and told the guy to stop laughing it really was a boarding pass. I went through security no lines. And I was looking for my gate .

I was in no mood to talk to strangers, forget about friends - dressed as I was in my worst shabby plane clothes when I hear someone call out my name.. Turn around a colleague who had separated from the company a year ago. We sit down we talk, his flight is called he goes.

I continue to the AA gate where it is freezing cold - thank god I have my handy red shawl. I cover myself up in it and go to sleep. 3 hours later they board the flight - and yes I got upgraded.

What was amazing was that no one complained. The only time there were some protests was when they invited the kids to board and as soon as they got to the front of the line, they told them to stay there while the fat cats in first class boarded). That was when people started to yell at the crew... Amazing - was this Delhi ? or as the AA commercial says we were already home.

You are invited to a meeting ... .in Hanoi !

Hanoi ? Vietnam ? Places I have heard of for my whole entire life - but where exactly is it ? In the 3 years that I've been in India, I haven't given it a second thought, and now that the meeting is being held in Hanoi

I am at a loss as to exactly where it is.

The only Hanoi I can think of is the infuriating Tower of Hanoi problem from the Algorithms class at Marist College. And that brings with it the memory of Prof Ten Eyck and the "page fault".. A computer is said to have experienced a page fault - and therefore a slight delay in processing - when the data required for a transaction cannot be found in local memory and must be fetched from external storage , in my case that would be from Google.

So in the map above - you can clearly see the eastern part of India, Bangladesh and the Bay of Bengal on the left. The big country adjacent to Assam is Myanmar (which most of us know as Burma) Ad next to it stretching down to the coast is Thailand. Cambodia is the country sitting below and to the east of Thailand and Laos is the long thin sliver nestled between Thailand and Vietnam - Vietnam being the country colored in red. Burma, Assam, Laos and Vietnam all share a border with China. To the East of Vietnam, is the South China Sea and the set of islands directly east are the Philippine Islands. Cannot see Malaysia on this map, it is to the south of Thailand. Singapore, which is at the southern end of Malaysia, is seperated from Malaysia by the Singapore straits . Indonesia is to the south of the Philippines and east and south of Malaysia and Singapore. So there you have it the countries of the ASEAN region !!

So now that we all know where Vietnam is lets see how a US citizen gets there from New Delhi (note we still do not know where Hanoi is). Apparently everyone needs a visa to go to Vietnam. If you are a US citizen you pay a $100 for the privilege that the rest of the world pays $25 for. The visa must be applied for on the web and collected on arrival.

There are no direct flights from New Delhi (or most places for that matter). You must either connect through Hongkong, Singapore or Bangkok. All international flights arrive around 9:30am and depart around 11:00am. Those are the choices. So its like catching a red eye (Delhi-Bankok) and then making a connection. I arrive BKK at 4:15am (who wants to arrive anywhere at that hour) and catch my connection at 8:30am. Fortunately Bangkok airport has the best foot massage parlor. Spending time there should not be hard.

I shall spare you the Delhi airport travails this time - you are starting to get the drill by now. I've arrived very early for my flight, so it is less of a battle all around and before long I settle into an empty chair with my generous supply of mail.

I had tried to look up the weather report before leaving, and instead of hitting weather I hit news - The headlines screamed - Diarrhea epidemic continues unabated in Hanoi ! and Foot and mouth disease cases mount (again in Hanoi).. and I am reminded that high rate of GDP aside, this is still a developing tropical country. Don't drink the water !!!

The flight from Delhi to Bangkok is jam packed. Lekhni tells me I have the last seat. I have now dubbed this flight the Smuggler's special. Hundreds of people that can only be characterized as the business community are on board. The stewardess tells them about 4 times to go back to their seats - they are all running all over the place hugging, kissing like long lost brothers, trading notes on the friendliest customs agents and duty free prices. As soon as the plane is in the air - they are back - I ask the fellow leaning right over me to talk to his pal if he would like to sit in my seat. Sadly the irony is lost on him - as he moves his garlic laden breath a few inches away.. I am about to call the stewardess.. when better counsel prevails and he moves onto another buddy. I wonder if this Vietnam trip is really worth it. Fortunately it is an outbound flight so I am not ladenwith oddshaped packages poking into my sides.

Hanoi, I realize from the flight map on the plane, is in the northern part of the country. Hard to tell just how far it is from the coast. The chauffeur with the hotel car later tellls me it is 90 miles to the ocean. What about Saigon you say ? Saigon is on the southern tip - its been renamed Ho Chi Minh City after the revolutionary leader. It is the commercial capital of the country - not as pretty I am guessing as Hanoi.

The airport at Hanoi is a scene I am now increasingly used to - complete bedlam, chaos and confusion and long lines. The desks are manned by young kids - barely 22 years old. They seem to look at the passports with fear and bewilderment - so perhaps I exaggerate , perhaps that is my projection but man they were painfully slow with their processing. The one kid looked at my passport photo then my face then back at the photo - he was struggling with believing it was the same person.... Hey kid.. me too...! I actually think I am way skinnier than that photograph. .but trust me it was a bad camera..can we get a move on please.

I make it outside eventually - find the driver of the BMW 325 that is to transport me to the Hotel - the Sofitel.

I have to confess I approached this trip with less enthusiasm than many other trips to foreign lands. The only thing going for it were a couple of websites that talked of Dreaming of Hanoi and the strong French influence on the city. It is a beautifully appointed hotel. And I realize as I see the Burberry, Louis Vitton and other luxury labels on the stores in the neighborhood that I must be in a very elite neighborhood. It is a very old hotel that boasts Charlie Chaplin and a zilion other celebrities stayed at.

The first day there I was consumed by jet lag (from my trip to the US the previous week) and could barely wake myself up for the 5pm meeting. Dinner was a 30 course Vietnamese feast including a large fish wrapped in banana leaf. 2 men had to carry the fish into the room on a stretcher. Exotic sea and land food - spotted snails, crabs and what not were on the menu. All very fishy. I was relieved when I saw my picky Indian colleague say he was not going to eat eggplant - he wanted pasta !!! The big boss joined us and being picky Indian eaters became legitimate.

Business meeting was interesting - and we had pasta for lunch again while our colleagues ate more Vietnamese delicacies.

Dinner was at Club 51 a gorgeous setting - a French Vietnamese restaurant. The decor was absolutely stunning. The reds and the golds the lanterns, the details... exquisite. And a vegetarian meal !!!

The next afternoon after the business meeting and the calls, I decided I really needed to make an effort to overcome my ennui - after all when would I return to Vietnam ?

So I hauled myself downstairs. All the tours had departed and some had returned. I was able to hire a tour guide to accompany around town. Lots of bicycles - French style - heavy French influence on the architecture.. Saw the Hanoi Hilton- not a luxury hotel - but the prison in which American prisoners were held !

Drove around town, visited the markets - overwhelming smell of fish again - no seriously I've seen as much pork and chicken breast as I want to see in a lifetime - no exotic seafood does nothing to whet my appetitie - i've seen enough - yes fascinating shoe market.... but no not toda. I did pick up some souvenirs - the lacquered plates are stunning yet simple - learnt the legend of the temple in the lake with disappearing magic sword. I saw the Water Puppet theatre - where the puppets are manipulated from rice sticks under the water rather than dangled on a string (top picture) ...... picked up a couple of fish puppets... they look interesting just strewn around - nice , But seriously, no I'm not in a hurry to rush back even if it is the only place in the world with a favorable exchange rate to the dollar. I still was left with half of the million dong I had withdrawn from the ATM ($65 the AP CFO had told me). Finally spent it at the airport the next day on Vietnamese chikki - wonder what mom will say when I bring it home....... why does it smell like fish ?

Annonymous Woman in Bangalore

The other day I went to a meeting in one of our new buildings in Bangalore. It was a large, sparsely populated building and they were just completing the finishing touches – like putting up signs that tell you how to get out of the building.

I was sarting to think I’d have to call someone to show me how to get out of the building and find my way to where the Hertz driver had dropped me off - when a young woman came clattering down the stairs.

She looked very much like my Salyani. Except she was wearing a short sleeved shirt and pants. And she was carrying a lightly filled backpack. She said she would show me how to get out of the building and find the AXIS bank where my driver would be waiting. She had a slightly harried look on her face.

She asked me where I was going – and I told her the name of my hotel. She did not know where it was. And we kept talking and walking. And she asked me again where I was going and I told her again – and I asked where she was going She told me her house was very far and she would be catching a bus to get there. I asked her again if she would like a ride. She accepted.

We chatted between my emails and phone calls – 6 kms feels like 46 in rush hour Bangalore.

It started with her asking me how the market for SAP-HR was. Given that that was the first time I had heard about SAP-HR, I was operating on very thin ground. She proceeded to tell me that her husband was very passionate about SAP-HR – he had taken out a loan for 4 lakhs ($10,000) and gone to school to become certified in SAP-HR. However, he was struggling with getting a job in that field because he did not have any relevant experience. He had been doing other jobs and helping out at the institute for the last 6 months. “I am really worried that we will never be able to pay off this loan”.

The story got sadder – She worked at my company in our prestigious research division. She was an engineering graduate and worked as a programmer.

She had been married to her college sweetheart. He was living in Chennai with his parents so he could go to the institute. His parents were old and could not look after little kids. Her mother had a debilitating illness and her father looks after her mother.

So this brave young woman, happily married and having all 4 grandparents is living like a single mom of the West in the middle of family smothered India. She lives in an apartment at the other end of time. She has a young woman come in to watch over her 2 year old baby. She leaves early in the morning – driving her scooter to Domulur. She parks her scooter in a public space near the bus station, and takes the bus to Whitefield. It takes about 2 and half hours to get each way to work. I had helped shrink her commute by about 30 mins today.

Twice a week she works from another office closer to Domulur – so her commute is shorter. She really cannot work from home – broadband too expensive , and the baby cannot understand why she won’t play with her.

Why don’t you move to Chennai – oh he really likes Bangalore – he wants to live here. Of course we may need to do something different if he does not get a job soon. All of 25 years old, the weight of the world sat on her shoulders.

My heart went out to this young woman, whose name I will never know – but whose courage and dedication impressed me deeply. .

A Brush with the Arts

I was waiting to board my flight. I had a good seat right in front of the gate, so I could board when my turn came.

A slightly older gentleman – probably in his late 50s came and sat down in the seat next to mine. Grey hair,glasses, wearing a suit and carrying a spring coat. Now I was in a better mood than I generally am at Delhi airport, but I still wasn’t feeling friendly enough to talk to strangers.

I was a little surprised when he struck up a conversation. He was waiting for the Swissair flight of which there was no sign (we were sitting by the AA gate). So he wanted to know if this was a business trip – he’d seen me talking to them and mistaken me for a friendly soul. I told him yes. I told him about the conference etc. And when it got to qsn #3 and I was tired of answering – I asked him where he was headed. He said Zurich.

So I asked him why he was going to Zurich. He was just starting a world wide lecture tour. First stop Zurich followed by Bern, Berlin, Amsterdam, London, New York, Washington DC, San Francisco, Tokyo, Beijing, and Singapore (I may have missed a coupled of cities and added 1 or 2.)

Ooh – the good life I thought !! What do you lecture on ? I am not sure what I was expecting but he told me he is an expert in Ancient Indian History. “I am the custodian of the ancient Indian arts and culture,” And then he moved into a passionate discourse on how people are only aware of the history that the British have chosen to publish. But the published history of India is largely inaccurate. for example there was never a single religion called Hindu – Hindu was the name of the people that lived south of the river Hind or Indus.

“I heard you talk about Shanghai with your colleague – do you go there often ?” “Actually I’ve never been, though I’d love to go. Really loved Beijing though – best foot massages anywhere in the world “ – happy to move to a topic where I was on slightly firmer ground . “Foot massages ! I have never had one – I am not into massages…” he sounded very uncomfortable. “But – I’ve traveled all over China” he said.

“China is a place where art and culture still thrives . And it is such an energizing, vital place. I’ve traveled all over it – been on a train all the way to Lhasa. I do not speak the language but the Chinese are some of the most friendly and warm people anywhere in the world.”

Despite my virtually non-existent knowledge of Indian history I foolishly attempted a feeble argument – “well but haven’t we been colonized civilization after civilization” “Give me an example” he says with the confidence of one who has demolished every argument there is – “well Alexander – Alexander was here for barely a few years hardly long enough to have an impact. And what about the Mughals ? “ I stammer – wondering why I had gone there in the first place. “The Mughals did not impose their religion on India – they assimilated with Indians “ - I wanted to argue that he was still a colonist but let it pass as he was pressing on with his argument – “11 of the 16 artists in his court were Hindu – there is a strong similarity between the art of ancient India and the Mughals …….. and etc…”

I cannot recall how we got to it but then he was telling me about how National Geographic had done a 16-spread on him. “It his the stands last month. And they still have it on their website. Wow! Yes and it is the first positive article I have seen on this country. I am very proud of the article and my country. Nat Geo sent a photographer and writer to work with me and visit the places I wanted to show them. The photographer was initially caught up with the very obvious color India has to offer and he took some photos of people begging – but the writer soon saw what I had to show and he made sure we got the right story”.

The Nat Geo article http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2008/01/

india-ancient-art/map-interactive

And then a gate official walked up to us and asked if we were traveling on American – the lines had thinned out and it was time for me to board my flight. I turned to the gentleman and asked him his name – Binoy Behl – read all about him.

Delhi Airport Circa April 2008 – Maybe, just maybe, there is a world class airport waiting to emerge.

Things are starting to get a little better at Delhi Airport. Or it could be that the weather is improving. Last night getting into the airport – I did not have to wrestle my way in – nice orderly lines and no mob. The temperature was also a balmy 70 degrees…entering the airport had never been this easy. Frame of mind you say ? Possible Rama says, “Anything is possible in Delhi”.

Of course there were the same makeshift counters, the same long lines, but just a litte bit less confused.

There were the 4 of us traveling this time… we are on our way to the Technical Leadership Exchange in Orlando, Fl. 3500 leaders from IBM will gather there to share ideas on things that matter to our business. We’re sending a large contingent from India – about 30 people.

We make it through immigration and customs and we head to the gate. – we’ve come in early – its less crowded as usual – but it still takes a while to find 4 seats together. The 4 of us flip open our laptops and get to work!!!!!!! You can spot a group of IBMers anywhere.

AA calls our flight – so I head to the gate – and I am told that they are only pre-screening the people way in the back of the plane. They won’t be allowed to board till the crew actually arrives. The crew arrived 60 mins later!!!! My colleagues spent 45 mins on the jet bridge waiting to be allowed to board.

For once – I was the very last person to board the aircraft. And when I got in I found someone optimistically occupying my aisle seat. I watched him pick up his stuff and move !! And only a tiny part of me felt sorry for him having to pack his long legs in the window seat.

Ringtone Maloo !!

So you might want to read "Building Up to the XIC reunion" if you haven't done so yet. Because it started when we went looking for classmates from oh so long ago.

In the last 3 weeks we've "found" Hema, Christine, Malcolm, Rohinton, Denzil, Pushkar, Billi, Karl, Sanjiv, Sanjeev, Bisham, Uneza, Jairam, Yogi, Peyton and Chitra.

12 of the 16 have connected in and been party to the inane , often silly and occasionally comic genius banter. 2 have maintained a steadfast silence - and the jury is still out on the other 2.

We have found that atleast 1 of the 16 is agile enough to make it up a coconut tree. Whether he makes it back down or not we do not know - cos he uses his blackberry to respond to mails. 2 can write email when under severe peer pressure. 1 has invented a very interesting language called bhangrezi - angrezi when written under the influence of bhang, of course. There have been phone calls and a couple of "sightings". The word is out - everyone has turned 40 (a few times atleast), got grey hair - which some remember to color, and are starting to act, show or look their age.

But appearances and accomplishments apart - the old characteristics are still very much in evidence. Take for example Christine - the social ambassador - smoothing out the rough edges making people welcome.

Or Malcolm who has hoarded every photograph and autograph book he ever took in his entire life, has then indexed and filed everyone of them, now he trots them out as evidence should someone make one false move.

He also teaches meditation in his spare time. If he is this wired with meditation, I wonder what he'd be like without it. No more caffeine for you Malcolm.

No one has seen Sanjiv - but we've talked to him, and we've seen his website - impressive - and he has set up a website we can post photos and share info about ourselves. Denzil still has the wry sense of humor. Yogi is still acting like the playboy - I did not know then whether it was real or an act and i still don't know. Sanjeev was his old self - easy to talk to. If Pushkar did not say a word - you'd think we were still in XIC -he looks just as he did.

And Rohinton Maloo - if you didn't actually see him face to face and just heard him on the phone - same thing - the sense of humor, if anything has sharpened over time. The stories have become richer with the varied experience he's had.

Some examples: "In a few years, people will need to get a visa to visit the United States of Delhi - its like a country in itself - like no other part of India. " Rohinton left our reunion early so he could stop by at his hotel and change into a suit - he was to go to a party at which the host had called him and asked him to come formally dressed. When he showed up there sweating profusely in his 3 piece suit - he saw all the men wearing 'flowing kurtas and embroidered bras" over their pajamas. For this, our dear Rohinton, spent an extra 2 hours riding around Delhi to grab his jacket !!!!

Rohinton's best playmates are the security guards in the various offices he visits. He insists on drawing a picture or scrawl instead of signing his name. He then tells them he is writing his name in Ancient Egyptian - the only language he writes (no no - the guards never question - cos they cannot read anyway). Some of them want him to have his photo taken for an electronic ID Badge. Rohinton loves making faces into the webcam much to the chagrin of the security guards. So then Rohinton engages in a philosophical discussion - its still me isn't it... this is how i look most of the time anyway - it will help people recognize me . .. why do you need a photo if my face is already there.... " and the poor guards can only offer a weak 'Sir that is not how it should be".

The other day he went to the Reliance Mobile office - they had been expecting him . The guard called up the host and informed him that Ringtone Maloo had arrived !!

Ringtone Maloo - funy how it just works. Can you imagine - Ringtone Sequeira, Ringtone Mehta, Ringtone Sharma, Ringtone Basu, Ringtone Shah, Ringtone Fernandes, Kashyap !!!! Maybe Ringtone Bisham and Ringtone Yogi or Ringtone Bamroo might work......... but Ringtone Maloo sounds just right.

If this post seems disjointed its cos i fell asleep writing it. Either its very boring or I am up very late !

Images of Pondicherry

So the 4 of us went to Pondicherry - because I wanted to go to a tranquil and peaceful place instead of spending Holi in Delhi.

Hema, Charu, Anjali and Dhruti......March 21, 2008 - Fisherman's Cove Chennai

The archway belongs to the hotel we stayed at the Hotel De Pondicherry in the French Quarter.

This elephant does the aarti each night at the Vinayak temple in Pondicherry.

I am just dying to get a pedicure.

Beautiful champa flowers everywhere. Perfect for my birthday.

Metal buckets are everywhere -i haven't seen a brass bucket in forever. This one in the bathroom just brought a smile to my face. Unlike most places I've been - the bathroom was bigger than the bedroom. Of course the bedroom just had room for the twin sized bed and a night stand .

And oh that complicated thing in my ear is an Ayurvedic procedure called Kanaphoosi to help clear the wax buildup in your ears. And if you really must know - no it did not work. It might have if we did not let all these people in to take a photograph !!!!

Breakfast at a local joint - the sambar is served out of a steel bucket. Charu and Anjali thought it was the best.

And just who had the insane idea of going to Mahabalipuram at noon ?

Building up to the XIC Reunion

This blog is dedicated to the people that were in the Advertising Class of XIC oh so many many years ago.

The 1st photo is of Rohinton , Hema and Sanjeev on March 28th, 2008 at the Radisson in New Delhi. The 1nd photo is of us taking a class or a test in our classroom - where we spent only 10 months together. You see Christine in the picture. The photo below is near Rohinton's ancestral wadi in Udwada. In the 3rd picture you see Christine (now in Canada) , Rohinton (runs Cutting Edge Media in Mumbai) , Malcom (trying to be retired but not, in Canada) and Hema (Stormville, San Diego, LA, New Delhi, Mumbai, Pune - who knows, who bothers to track, and does it really matter ?)

It all started with IBM piloting Beehive - a social networking program inside IBM. One of the SVPs has taken it upon himself to test it out as a tool for collaboration. Hema got invited into the hive and show what she could do with it. Social networking sites - especially if they are closed to a specific group of people - can be really fun. And Hema had a great time sharing photographs, participating in events and writing Hive 5s - not to mention looking up old colleagues and friends and catching up with what they are doing today. It was also a great place to meet and communicate with absolute strangers.

Hema thought she liked social networking a lot. So she decided to go see what was happening on Facebook - another site that was frequently referred to by the people on Beehive.

And lo and behold - who did she find there - but her good old friend Christine from XIC. Now, Hema and Christine have been in touch with each other over the last few years, but here Hema found photographs and parepharnalia that allowed her to get a view of what Christine had been upto in the last couple of years. It was awesome.

And so Hema said - Why not create a Facebook group for all my old friends. People she grew up with, went to college with, hung out with in Bandra..... she set up a group on Facebook and sent a message to everyone in her address book.

Some were quick to respond - Facebook - is for teeny boppers! I have no time for Facebook. Facebook - get real!!! There were a couple of Facebook - ok let me try it out. In general the Facebook thing fizzled out very quickly.

However, in the middle of it all - Christine connected with Malcolm Gomes. Who was in touch with Rohinton Maloo and Denzil Sequeira. Who knew where to find Karl Fernandes and Pushkar Sinha and Sanjiv Sharma. Puskhar knew where to find Billy Kashyap or Billikash as he now likes to be called. Sanjiv knew where to find Sanjeev Mehta.

There have been reunions in Mumbai , Delhi and online this past week. And it has been energizing and uplifting. Amazing - we only spent 10 months together and yet there is this intense connection . We seem to be picking up where we left off..... Yeah we all seem to have put on some weight... some of us have put on quite a lot of weight. And what is that streak of silver peeking out from under our hair ? We all seemed so invincible back them.. and compared to what we now know - so very naive!!

Well - more people have to be found. Rohinton says he knows where to find Yogesh Shetty and Chitra Bamroo. Who might know what happened to Noshir and to Leila. Last we heard Peyton was in Australia and Manoj Mathew in Dubai or Bahrain. And Rohinton and Sanjiv both know the make and model of Bishu's car - I think Bisham is again taking us for a ride (like he did when we rode to Lonavala - we all thought we would stay at his family's Biji's Inn. We ended up in the gardener's cottage instead !) Rohinton also knows where to find Uneza . Uneza ??

The question is will we ever find the whole class ? Most likely not - as you mention a name - the image seems to emerge from some long hidden recess of the brain....... and many times it does not. Will we ever even get a list of all the names - I doubt it. Will the ones that find each other - emerge better off from this reunion ? Or should we have let bygones be bygones ? Will we regret having opened this Pandora's box ? Who knows ? Only time will tell. But I do know that having started down the path we could not NOT keep looking, finding, searching for whatever it is that lies ahead.

Meanwhile there are all these poor guys out on Facebook - wondering what happened to the party Hema promised. Sigh!!! So much buzzing so little time!!!

Kadugarh Ke Maharaja

So perhaps you have read the other blog entitled "My First Trip to Kadugarh".. which describes our ancestral home on my paternal side and the way it was when my grandparents ran it. This one is about Kadugarh aka the land of pumpkins aka the land of bupkus - the same property when it was run by my uncles .

The photo above shows the 1952 Renault tractor that my uncle and dad purchased from the Agriculture College of Pantanagar in the late 50s or early 60s. The one on the extreme left above is my cousin Munnu who was the primary care taker and restorer of the tractor since the late 60s. Next to him is my Calcutta-walli bua's daughter - Bharti bhen, her younger brother Pappu(Vijay Dani), Mumbai-bua's son Babli (Mukesh Parikh now a famous wedding photographer), Calcutta-walli bua's youngest child Parul - a renowned Kathak dancer, Munnu's younger brother Raju - who still lives in Kadugarh in the ancestral home, his sister Mamta and another chacha's daughter - Babli (Rupa Das) . This photo was taken about 18 years after the one in my earlier blog where you see munnu as the 2nd cutest baby sitting on my grandmother's lap.

My grandfather passed away in 1962. By then, my older uncle was running his own farm a few miles away, and living in his own home, separately from the joint family. My father had completed his engineering studies and had taken up a job in Bombay. In fact by 1960 he and my mom had scrimped and saved to buy their own 2 bedroom apartment in Anand Vihar in Bandra where they lived for some 40 years before moving to Kandivali.

So after my grandfather passed away in 1962 - the operation and control of the farm fell to my uncles who must have been in their late 20s or early 30s. My grandfather had run a very tight and well managed ship. Water and irrigation that had been the one variable had been tamed with the big nehar that flowed right outside the farm. Smaller canals - guls - had been cut out to ensure a steady supply of water to all the farms in the area. Between the milk from the cows and the feed for the cattle and the sugarcane crop - the farm was doing reasonably well. Some seasoned share croppers tilled the land and all that had to be done was to manage the milking of the cows.

Food on the table was no longer an issue - living costs were manageable - and my uncles found themselves in a state of relative wealth and well-being with lots of free time on their hands. Both of them were incredibly clever and innovative (hindi word for that is Juggadu) and the one uncle took to managing the mechanisation of the farm. The other built a timber logging factory. This still did not keep them occupied enough and they acquired the lifestyles of the Zamindars. Zamindars of old commanded hundreds of acres of land, and lots of lots of laborers whom they ruled with absolute autocracy. My uncles had maybe 25 acres between them and no more than a dozen laborers - so they just went with the lifestyle - one that involved calling out orders from the porch . This I think resulted in the coinage of the title - "Kadugarh ke Maharajah" - King of the Land of Bupkus.

This photo is from Kadugarh's heyday - when every summer all of us cousins gathered in Haldwani and had a simply fabulous time.

Things went from great to bad to worse. And the Kadugarh empire fell on the shoulders of young Munnu - who realized that he needed to stop the family from selling off bigha after bigha of land for consumption. He stemmed the sale. He also realized that he needed to start a non-agricultural source of income. He set up an auto parts store in downtown Haldwani and built it up into a highly successful business.

In 2002 - Renault discovered the tractor and Munnu - and asked if they could buy it back as an artifact of their remarkable history. Munnu demurred saying that he still used it to plough the fields. Renault gifted him a brand new tractor a cheque for a handsome sum and invited him to a 50th anniversary celebration with the Minister of Agriculture.

The ancestral home still stands . Munnu and Raju have both built mansions next to it in which they live with their families. Most of the land - save a few bighas that the 2 brothers have saved for themselves have been sold. What used to be open green fields, now resembles an unplanned township with over 200 homes on it.

Kadugarh now lives in only in our hearts and memories.

Om Shanti Om!! Updated with Context Link

While I generally love the pace and excitement of my job, I was starting to miss my Yoga sessions. And I recalled longingly the feeling of peace and total relaxation I had had with my one meditation session in Kerala.
With the long weekend approaching, I told my niece Dhruti, that I’d like to really go away to a place where I could learn to meditate. This was approximately the experience I was going for http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=Fj-DWJE7Y2Y&feature=related .

She said if I went somewhere that was also fun, she’d go too. One thing led to another – and the 4 of us – Dhruti, her mother, Anjali and I landed at Chennai airport on Fri morning en route to Pondicherry.

We were greeted by lightning, thunder and buckets of rain………. the temperature a balmy 23 degrees and a perfect cloud cover. My spiritual advisor Rama informed me that rain on my birthday was a very good sign…

And so I went to Pondicherry convinced I would find serenity there.

It took some work to find a Yoga school that also offered meditation lessons – and this particular school insisted I take 3 lessons as a minimum. So I scheduled one on Sat morning, one in the evening and one on Sunday morning before we were scheduled to depart.

The first session was great – and I liked how I felt. The second was even better – they were practicing carnatic music downstairs and it sounded serene and heavenly. God Bless you Dhruti ! You have done well with organizing this trip.

That evening, roaming the streets of Pondicherry, we happened upon a Café.Com that offered among other things – a beautiful home theatre. A large beautifully appointed room with a giant sized screen and a projection TV / DVD. We decided that while the rain was pleasant enough, watching a movie here would be far more fun. So we looked through the available titles and settled on – by pure coincidence “Om Shanti Om” the new blockbuster starring SRK (ShahRukhKhan - reigning king of Bollywood for you foreigners) . Here's a you-tube clip http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=kOkMIBCuT2M We had a grand time – including some impromptu dancing with our silhouettes being superimposed on the screen.

On Sunday – I rose early and rushed to the Yoganjali Natyalaya for my final lesson before departure. More carnatic music – and an even better ambience. We got to the Om Shanti Shanti Shanti part – and all my mind could think of was “All hot girls put your hands in the air…..Om Shanti Om!!!!!!”

So much for meditation . Will I ever learn ? Will I ever find my Om Shanti Shanti Shanti ?

My First Trip to Kadugarh, I mean, Judges Farm

This photo was taken on what was really my first trip - it doesn't count, cos i don't remember it. I am the cute one sitting on my uncle's lap. The photo was taken under the great big mango tree (its still there) that sits between the house and the family temple. Seated from your left to right are
Usha Jiji, Dhruv bhai, Uttam Bhai, Mira jiji, Mayank bhai, Kirit bhai, Pop bhai in back, and Gautam bhai is the serious kid in front.
Seated grownups and infants are - Tauji (my dad's older brother), me on his lap, my grandmother (who rode the ghoda gadi to the market), Munnu on her lap, Pappi (standing), and my Grandfather the lawyer.
Standing grownups - Krishna kaka (aka the Maharaja of Kadugarh), his wife Khusman Kaki (aka the Maharani of Kadugarh), my mom, Taiji, Cho-Cho bua, my dad (also the one who took this picture), Devi Kaki - she is carrying Guddi in her arms though you can barely see her) and Vinu Kaka.

Kadu-garh - n. Land of Kadu. Great you say - but what is Kadu ? In shudh (pure) Hindi - it means pumpkin. In our family it refers to "Nothing" or as one might say in American - "bupkus".

One of these days, I must ask my dad which of my theories about why he and his brothers chose to affectionately refer to the ancestral estate as Kadugarh, instead of the more respectable Judges Farm that my grandfather had named it.

The only thing I know for certain is that you just have to say Kadugarh to any of my paternal cousins to see their face light up with a smile - for this is where we spent several happy summer holidays hanging out, learning new stuff, growing up.

Kadugarh - Judges Farm - what's in a name you say ? Judges Farm was when my grandparents ruled the place. It was about being proper and following the rules. In the years that the crop was good, the family feasted. An army of tradespeople sat on the veranda - tailors sewing clothes for the entire family, mattress and quilt makers helping get ready for the arduous winter ahead, a jeweller putting things together for the next family wedding and so on. When it wasn't so good - things were scaled back dramatically.

My grandfather, a practicing lawyer in the Agra High Court, moved there some time in the 30s following an accident in the family . The first house was the best the family could afford to put up. My aunts tell us off how the roof would cave in in a thunderstorm, about how they feared for their lives because of the wild animals that roamed around in the nearby jungles - about missing their lives in Agra.

But I digress - this ancestral home is in a town called Haldwani, which is also known as the entry point into the Kumaon region. Today, this has become a Tier 3 town with lots of factories making their home there, hardly recognizable as the area in which Jim Corbett hunted the man-eating tigers and cheetahs.

I remember my very first visit to Judges Farm - I was eight years old.

It took 2 nights and 2 days to get there by train. We boarded the Frontier Mail at Bombay Central, spread out our bedding and while my parents slept on the upper bunks, my brothers and I pressed our noses to the window to catch the sights and foods of every station we passed - Dahanu Road, Surat, Vadodara, Godhra, Ratlam, Kota, Bharatpur and finally Mathura. There we repaired to the Waiting Room - showered changed and went for a ride into town - gingerly avoiding the Mathura pandas (touts - holy revered touts) .

We returned to the station and the porter guided us to 3 carriages that were sitting apparently abandoned. We settled into one of them, and exhausted with all the excitement I fell asleep. I awoke as I felt a strong jolt. My brothers informed me that the Kathgodam Express had arrived, and our carriage had just been shunted to it. Next morning we travelled on a narrow guage track - passing fields and streams like I had never seen before. I remember Lal Kuan station and the incredible tea served in earthen pots and the best samosas I have ever eaten in my whole life. At Lal Kuan they attached a second engine to the back of the train - this one pushed the train forward, while the one in front valiantly pulled.

Finally at noon and some 40 hours after we had left home we arrive at Haldwani station where a whole lot of people and a converted van await us. The conversion is that the cover in the back has been removed - so you ride with the fresh air and sunshine (heat) in your face.

We arrive at the farm and surprise number 1 - No plumbing or running water and the toilets are away from the house. They do have doors. It takes a good scrubbing to rid ourselves of the grime from the engine (coal engine) and then there are all these cousins to be met. Pappi, Guddi, Munnu, Raju, Mamta, Babu..... and more are on the way. We walk out into the field a long ways - its bhindi (okra) season. We see a little pond in which the farm cattle are cooling themselves off. We return by the stables - where my grandmother's horse and ghoda gadi (horse cart) are parked. My grandma likes to drive herself to the market every once in a while. And while there are lots of daughters-in-law and servants, she likes to visit the horse atleast once each day. Totally alien stuff to this city slicker - but very cool.

It starts to turn dark - and my aunts walk around lighting the lamps - surprise number 2 - no electricity. I also get to see surprise number 3 - they are cooking on stoves fueled by sawdust. Oooh the smoke is getting into my eyes. Next morning its Surprise #4 - the men and the boys all bathe around the water tank - its a cement structure that my grandfather had constructed - its filled with water from the nearby streams and canals - this is the only source of water on the farm. For the women - the water is fetched in buckets and taken to the bathrooms attached to the house.

At night we sleep on the terrace, under the stars. All of us boys and girls on mattresses laid out on mats and covered with a white sheet. We tell stories. My aunts talk about encountering a tiger late one night as they were all returning home in the family car, and how it ran away when my uncle flicked on the head lights. We hear the dogs - or is it jackals - howl in the forest. I lie awake - afraid of the wild animals for a while, then fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. I awake to hear the low buzzing sound - mosquito attack. And I learn to plaster myself with Odomos each night.

Its great sitting to lunch with my brothers and cousins - its now about 12 of us sitting on the floor eating out of our steel thalis telling stories, making plans, squabbling...... and soon the days turn into weeks. We climb trees, we disturb ant hills, we play cards, we tell stories, i learn to speak some hindi and before we all know it......summer is over and we're back in the converted van heading to the railway station to start the 40 hour journey back.

Such was Judges Farm............. a magnificent memory - one that dreams are made of... Now Kadugarh will be another blog.

The Country That Stopped SARS!

I fell in love with Singapore the first time I went there. In Feb 2003. It was clean, it was efficient, easy to get around, Asian and everyone spoke English. Yes, it was a little warm - but the airconditioning worked very well.

I was fascinated by the amalgamation of Colonial, Chinese, Arab and Indian influences - and the Komala Vilas in Serangoon Lane with its wobbly wooden chairs reminded me of my grandfathers house in Patan. And the food reminded me of the multitude of ingredients in Indian cooking that I had forgotten about in the last 16 years.

I heard of the SARS outbreak from an anxious VP in my company - who had heard about it in the US and wanted to make sure I was safe. I was safe, and was leaving for the US in a couple of days !

It was an anxious time - as the US was also about to invade Iraq. I remember going into the Admirals Club lounge in Tokyo and seeing all the Americans huddled around the TV seeing the early reports - and thought that this is what it is like to be away from your home in difficult times.

Anyway, I returned to my life in the US even as SARS continued its deathly toll in Asia, including Singapore. 6 months later - in July that year - I was invited back to visit Singapore. It was a whole different country. This was a country that had battled with SARS and won, and emerged more serious and determined from that struggle.

It started with the elaborate card I had to fill out for the Health Authorities telling them whether or not I had had any recent illnesses, the seat I was sitting in , my last address, where I was going to be in SGP, the seat I had occupied on the plane, and where I was planning to go next. Then I had to have my temperature taken and wear a sticker indicating that I was fever free. Then I was allowed into the country - where every one wore gloves and masks despite the heat.

Over the next few days, I found that every building I entered I needed to get a new fever sticker.

When I returned to the Komala Vilas - I saw that they had installed 2 large sinks in the restaurant - not in the bathrooms, but out just where we sat in full public view. What was more, people were actually using them to wash their hands with soap and all. Weird !

I went to a fancy restaurant with live music by the river - beautiful ambience - and then the same sinks again. I asked my host what this was about - "Oh that is for washing hands! Every restaurant is required to have these in public areas. When the SARS epidemic was raging through the city - they published detailed films on how to wash your hands . How to get to the spots that most people miss . You are supposed to wash your hands for a full 2 mins" !!! The front, the backs, the fingers, the finger nails, the mounts on the palms, the sides - I never realized my hand had so many unique part.

Last week I was in the washroom of one of the hotels - and I saw this beautiful Singaporean lady standing at the sink washing her hands. She let some water run over it. Then she squirted a generous amount of soap. And then she proceeded to lather up the soap for a good 2 mins - it was a mechanical routine action - kind of like the Swiss women brushing their teeth - before she rinsed them off.

I had had the opportunity to witness the impact of this deadly disease from afar through reports from my colleagues in Singapore, and then again when I visited during the summer of 2003. But this was the first time that I realized this was a country where they had stopped the onward spread of SARS through sheer will power and determination.

GAAR - A World Class Airport Awaits You !

Each time I take an international flight out of Delhi I think this is as bad as it can get, and each time I am surprised by just how much worse it can be.

Heading out to SGP this evening , for example, the new NH8 from Gurgaon to the Airport was a breeze – until you actually got to the airport. Then you see the busloads of people coming from Punjab to catch a flight out somewhere.

There are big signs of GAAR – haven’t figured out the actual acronym but its talking about how ‘A World Class Airport Awaits You”. Well, bring it on now – because I am really ready for it.

There are construction walls and debris all over the place. Lots of people wearing the neon green smocks saying GAAR Can I Help You – and if you can actually stop them long enough to ask them a question they might even tell you.

Well I finally negotiate the long trains of carts and people with luggage who are just generally standing around – isn’t the point of an airport to go somewhere ? when I actually find the queue to enter the airport structure, there are only 2 people waiting to get in. The mob surrounding the entry was just aimlessly hanging around ! (At an airport that looks like its been bombed).

Inside it’s a whole other scene. Wall to wall people ! Wistfully I think of the wall-to-wall carpet in my home in Stormville – very very different !

Thank God I’ve brought a carry-on. Long lines snake around the baggage screening machines. 40 minute lines, at least.

I make 2 false starts and then a GAARs person points me to where they have moved the SQ counters AGAIN. I’ve come very early – about 3 hours before my flight is to depart – and yet the lines for both the SQ flight and the CO flight (Viramgam express to Newark ) which leaves 40 mins after the SQ flight have long lines. It must be the busloads from Punjab!

I notice another queue forming alongside me. I am in my mood today – its extremely hot in the airport – and I’ve decided I will not speak Hindi today. The Punjabi woman edging her cart past me in the tiny space between me and the CO queue apologetically explains that she had gone to remove some stuff from her suitcase because it was too heavy. Another heavy gent pushes in behind her grumbling about how he had to empty some stuff cos he was 5 kilos too heavy. SQ is really enforcing the rules today.

Eventually I get my boarding pass and head towards the immigration counters. Lo and behold they have instituted a queue system and once again I cannot see where it starts. There’s a dog wandering through the hall – except he doesn’t look like a stray dog – shiny black coat and a plain clothes guy walking behind him. What is happening to Delhi International Airport ? Oh wait – World Class!

When I finally find the queue there is no one in it and I make it past immigration and customs. Between holding my US passport face up and not wanting to speak (and defacto passing for a ferang - I’ve dropped the ethnic garb these days ) – I get by without too much trouble.

Outside from customs is a brand new world class duty free shop. Finally! My world class airport. My joy is short lived as I walk behind it and there is the same old crummy airport. I walk over to Gate 10 and even though its 90 mins before departure – its hard to find a single vacant seat. Finally they call the EY211 flight to Mumbai (Air India – I was also wondering) and a whole bunch of seats open up. Imagine going through all this to fly to Mumbai.

Anyway I find a spot in the corner and start to write this – trying hard not to miss the flight to Singapore – and then I get it. From Indira Gandhi International Airport you can get to all these places where a World Class Airport Awaits You !

Choksey Family Reunion 2008 - Warning Very Long Post !

They say you can never go back !

And even if, by some miracle, you do get close – it is impossible to recreate that special feeling you experienced.. or even the same group of people.

And so it was that as we made our way to the 2nd family reunion it was a smaller group that made its way to Modi Farms in Karjat. Several of the people from the first reunion were there. Several others had promised to come for the day on Saturday. A few new ones had promised to join. And the driving force behind the 2006 reunion – Nitin mama and Judith were with us, though only, in spirit.

Modi farms in Karjat is actually a health resort and a spa – from the outside the rooms look similar to the vacation bungalows in Lonavala that we spent summers at – inside they are functional – furnished with twin beds, ACs, shower, geyser, refrigerator etc. Not a luxury resort by any description, but adequate. One of the early comments was - Alibag was much nicer ! Hear hear.

The biggest attraction of the spa is that you can get a massage – and very thoughtfully someone booked up all the slots for the women upon our arrival so we could each have a massage.

I must say though that Sita masi’s “Kapda kadh’ in the massage room, immediately transported me back to that day in Kishore Bhuvan when I had the runs – after eating a whole can of Kraft Cheese - and needed to keep going to the bathroom. I was about 6 years old then !!!

The massage put everyone into a nice relaxed state of mind ready for the evening’s festivities. Minal’s older girl Maia ran around with her hand in Amaya’s happy to have found an older sister. There was a cricket match on TV and so the afternoon slipped into evening.

Mihir has learned to mix a new cocktail – a Vanilla Twist . Hema has learned to make Sangria – and whether you have fruits or not, as long as you have the vodka it is just fine.

The temperature was a balmy 20 degrees Celsius and we sat on the patio feeling the gentle breeze eating the bajri wadas that Charu’s mom had made for us, and the Ahmedabad nu bhussu that Anjali had brought. Wafer king, Suresh mama, had got some fancy wafers. Life is good !

Now you can only eat and drink for so long – we soon switched to Antakshari – that Anjali is an amazing one – she knows lots of songs, and she knows all the wild ones - Yahoooooooo!!! Chahe koi mujhe jungli kahe.. The senior Choksey sisters and Hansa mami sang several old songs and bhajans – several of them sounded like they had made them up on the fly – as Mihir said - just how many can there be ? And Hema introduced us all to Uttam bhai’s favorite childhood chant – “ Jag ne jadva, kem lagyo padva, val ni dal te kem khadi ? “ This all but scandalized the adult Chokseys – not sure whether it was the blasphemy or the fact that she actually said "padva" out loud or both.

14 months after Alibag and a full 26 months after when she first learnt it – Hema’s Kajra Re routine was in dire need of a revamp (no – I did not call her a vamp or a vampire – stop causing trouble) – she just needed to take some new lessons.

But it neither stopped her from dancing, nor did it stop the audience from asking for more. Minal swore she was now inspired to go see the movie. When we told her that it was from Bunty or Babli, she said she had seen the movie, and tried to stop (unsuccessfully) herself from saying she did not recall seeing anything that resembled the dance (True, Hema is very much like Aishwarya Rai, but the hair is different, there is just a tiny bit more of her than Aishwarya, and in the dark, it is very hard to see the resemblance - especially when Hema goes without makeup).

The next morning there was breakfast, swimming and a round of massages.

Sudhin – cowed down by the admonition of his older sister to not turn this event into a path-shalla had dutifully left his book of avant garde feminist poetry in Ahmedabad - yes our Sudhin –cowed down, avant garde, feminist and a poet – imagine !.

The poetry last year was along the lines of “How would the Indian woman have defined herself had Sita refused to take the agni pariksha to prove her purity ? How would she have defined herself had Draupadi refused to be married to a Pandava and be shared between 5 brothers ?..........and so on.

True that that is all I remember from that morning – but isn’t it more than you remember from most mornings ? And isn’t it powerful ? I still remember that sense of sereneness and togetherness that we all experienced reading this wildly provoking poetry – Anila masi read, Hema translated – mostly with accuracy , and every so often with a slight vanilla twist.

And so there was no philosophical discourse ala Alibag style that morning. But Anila masi and Hema had a plan for the afternoon – to welcome Ramesh bhai and the Kotharis.

Around 11 we settled down and did a mock path-shalla run. Then we decided to play Choksey Trivia – the original plan was to see if we could test the family on old skeletons. Given that we put Minal and Hema in charge of this event – the 2 who left the country before they could speak Gujarati – what chance of them recognizing a Choksey skeleton even if it walked upto them and knocked on their forehead –this was proving to be a little difficult .

So they decided to give it a contemporary twist (very smart those 2) . They aksed which Choksey sister was the prettiest in her youth, and had the most suitors – no one wanted to touch that one. They pretended they did not understand the question. And finally Minal and Hema gave up – it was a trick question after all – Sumitra masi was hands down the prettiest if you were to go by the available photos – but bhen or ashru masi could have been – we just don’t have good photographs. Bhadra masi was pretty good looking too – and I am sure we Bachu mama has some really good stories about Anila masi and Sita masi. But no one was willing to comment. And so reluctantly they dropped it.

The next question they wanted to ask was “Who wears the pants in the family ? “ Given the Choksey sisters legendary spirit of taking control, and the Choksey man’s penchant to run the world, but bow to the wishes of the lady of the house – this was becoming a difficult one to answer as well. Minal and Hema decided to drop the question as it had a distinct possibility of dragging them both into the playing arena – them being slightly bossy and all… .

Instead, they asked the assembly the apparently innocuous “How many great grand-children would Lilavati Gordhandas Choksey have today ? “ Can you guess how many times they had to explain the question ? Since they did not know the answer either – it was a difficult one to judge.

The results had to be computed several times with counting on many many fingers. In the end, the results were disputed between the parties with no clear resolution and the matter was temporarily interrupted with the arrivals of Ramesh bhai and the Marfatias – once again all traveling in the 1 sedan – and no Apurva, this time I did not catch a picture.

The Kotharis and Ramesh bhai arrived – and we asked the question again – same result, different answers. Does anybody know ? I mean is Piya – Dhruvbhai’s grand daughter - to be included in that number or not ? What about her father Shashwat ? And what about Aishani’s son ? Next generation you say – then what about Judhith’s grandchildren ? What about the children of partners of people that have been divorced ? Answer: to be re-discussed on the parivar website.

Shaila bhen brought some wonderful Pistachio mithai from Dubai – there was a strict process – take just 1 now, leave 1 for later. Rajesh and Hema both took Nita’s share to give to her, they also tried to take it on behalf of a few other people and got yelled at. Then Shaila bhen went for a walk leaving the box unattended on a chair. Rajesh and Hema wasted no time in emptying the box. Nita never got to taste her mithai forget about more than 1 piece. In fact most people did not get more than 1 piece – except of course Rajesh and Hema.

We started the Path-Shalla. We talked briefly about “Not postponing Joy “ the key message from an email Judith had sent out that morning. Some people were engaged, but quite frankly it just wasn’t the same without Sudhin’s poetry. And path shalla does not work at noon – it has to be in the morning.

So people listened politely but all attention was on the promised game of Housie. When did this crowd turn into a bunch of senior citizens clamoring for bingo evening ?

Weren’t we all climbing into and occupying every inch of Mota Mama’s Landmaster just yesterday ? And at the Hanging Garden with Sita masi and Dr. Vaidya – with onlookers telling Sita masi she looked too young to have so many children ?

Housie was hosted by the young Choksey sisters - Amaya and Maia (Age 8 and 3 or something like that respectively) . Aria (the baby) tried to participate - but because she was the youngest she was told to go take a nap and let the grown ups manage this. (Remember what that was like Nitin mama ? Nita ? Apurva ? )

The grown-ups tried their usual “game the system” stuff – old habits die hard – this could have worked, had Nita not appointed herself as the custodian of the little ones . However, Hema did get away with taking Rs100 from Sudhin and buying tickets for several people with that money. But the Kotharis ended up being the big winners sweeping off all the prizes.

Housie, lunch, trivia and it was time to pop the champagne – Mihir and Sangeeta’s 15th anniversary, Sudhin’s birthday, Shaila and Madhukar’s anniversary. So many other events too but heck who needs an excuse for champagne ? or for the Lemon Twist that Rajesh brought

Papa decided he had had enough of this sitting around asking questions business – was Matheran really that close ? So he and a few others climbed into the car and drove off to see what lay outside the Modi farms. Remember the trip to Prakruti at Alibag ? Amazing how a story like that can take on new dimensions over time.

Hina, Jay and Sania arrived in the evening with their hammock and more alcohol. None of them drink – what the heck are they doing with alcohol then ? but we were too grateful to ask – they brought a Smirnoff Vanilla Vodka, and some great scotch – and there was more drinking and off-key singing until the crowd was ready for a round of dumb charades.

While there was no “Murde mein jaan hain” this time Minal had come armed with several ugly ones like Intermezzo, Samson and Delilah, 20000 Leagues Under the Sea and etc etc.

Dhruti did very well with Intermezzo but she had to yield to Mihir for a couple of ugly ones. The setting made it very hard to cheat – it was dark, and for some of us our hearing and eyesight was not what it used to be….

Every time we play this game, I learn more techniques on how to play this game and win just by watching Mihir and Sangeeta – and I learn a bunch of new stuff about Aviva mami – she is just like one of the kids – just a lot smarter.

Anyway the weekend was coming to a close and Minal just could not stop commenting on how this Choksey family was very different from what she remembered – she could not believe all the alcohol being poured – frankly Minal, neither could the people drinking it –where did it all go ?

Day of Departure

The morning tea thing just wasn’t working out to the satisfaction of the Chokseys so on Sunday morning, Minal packed her children into Mihir’s car and drove upto the restaurant to collect the tray of teas. With all the jerks and coughs – it’s a surprise that the tea did not spill over. I think Mihir was keeping an eye on it. She came back with this large tray covered with some 20 cups – no saucers, most chokseys have stopped drinking out of saucers for a few decades now.. Maia carried a plate of the most incredible freshly made Karjat batatawadas. Mihir followed behind her with the car keys.

I had walked back for a bit, but when I returned – a sensational skeleton had just been outed.

An agitated Sudhin came upto me and said – You will not believe what I just heard. I am shocked, I am astounded – I cannot believe it. You will never guess in a million years.

Minal had the look of the cat that had eaten the canary – Finally the skeletons are coming out !

Sita masi had the look on her face of – Are these people mad ?

Kisan masa was saying – and I thought I have been a part of this family for so long, I knew everything. I am in shock. Anila masi was apologizing. Apologizing – Anila masi !

What the hell ? Charu and I had only been gone 10 mins.

Sudhin said it started with a conversation about Bruno and Sarkozy. And even Ramesh bhai did not know – And he was sure Madhukar did not know. And he would bet Nita and Rajesh…….

Bruno and Sarkozy and the Kotharis and Marfatias ? Can you give me a couple more clues ? Maybe just one.

Its too much – I cannot believe it… more shocked mutterings from Sudhin and Kisan masa.

Finally, after what seemed like forever – someone told me – Bhen was masa’s second wife. And I went – “And the skeleton is … .?” Sudhin looked at me look I was the densest creature he’d met – THAT is it - Neither Kisan fua nor I were aware of it for all these years.

I told him I’d known forever, this wasn’t news. I turned around to Charu – and asked her – she said I knew from before I was married !!!! This isn’t a skeleton.

I asked Hina – Bhadra masi’s daughter who is just getting re-acquainted with us – even she knew.

“I did not know. No one told me. All these years growing up in Kishore Bhuvan – I thought I knew everything. And now I find out. I was missing the basiscs.” The fact that this was a completely irrelevant fact to everyone present was lost on both Kisan masa and Sudhin – particularly Sudhin.

And as he continued muttering he mentioned that he'd know about the one person and then another - and before we knew it, 2 brand new and, equally irrelevant skeleton like things had tumbled out at rapid speed – I knew about neither.

I think Sudhin is back in Ahmedabad still trying to figure this out.

But for that morning we managed to make it past that to a discussion about the Inner Circle, the Outer Circle and the people who were in Orbit in the Choksey parivar.

While the members of the Outer Circle (Sita masi, mummy, Urmila mami) and the Orbit (Hina for Bhadra masi) were very vocal about it, the members of the Inner Circle struggled with acknowledging its existence.

I am thinking we will never know the true story. Perhaps there was an inner circle inside that inner circle. Perhaps the members were motivated by strong protective instincts to preserve social order and the Choksey family………. And perhaps these were the natural forces at play… With the passing of each year this will become even more difficult to get to the bottom of.. and perhaps that is ok. Perhaps a quest for the truth is not as valuable as the lessons we can learn from it. And certainly not as valuable as the heritage of its existence and the influence it has had on each of us.

I will leave that one for the next Path-Shalla. Anila masi – listen up !!!

And so we all left Modi Farms that morning happy and content – especially Suresh mama – who got the 2nd massage of his whole entire adult life – the last one being some 40 years ago at a 5-star hotel for the handsome sum of Rs. 40. And mummy demonstrating that at 80 something she has truly crossed over from Choksey to Shah or is it Margulies ? by tipping her massage lady a handsome 25%. Way to go mom!

Christmas Party 2007

No one knows when my dad was born. Not for sure anyway. My grandparents lived in a very large joint family in Namak Mandi in Agra. No light fell on the very narrow street on which the house stood - because the houses were placed close together and were 3 stories tall. You walked through a narrow passage to enter a courtyard flooded with light. From the terrace, you could see the Taj Mahal - just a little ways away... Women occupied the upper floors - little lattices covered the balconies - so they could see the courtyard - but not be seen themselves - in keeping with the strict mughal traditions that must have prevailed in the area in earlier generations.

That is where my dad was born. In a house filled with lots of uncles, aunts and cousins. No one kept track of births or deaths. And so it came about that even though my great grandfather was a well known judge, and my grandfather a lawyer - when it came time to fill out his birth date on a form - my father was left to his own devices.

Dad says he thought long and hard about the date to pick. He finally settled on Christmas Day - because that is the day a large number of people celebrate. It was easy to remember. And so it came about that every Christmas we would celebrate my father's birthday. My young niece kept up the tradition while I was away. And the last couple of years we've tried to see if we can outdo ourselves with having a non-Gujrati birthday party - it is Christmas after all - and we all grew up among Catholic friends in Bandra.

One year we all went out to a champagne brunch at one of the hotels in Mumbai - and had a GRAND time. Last year , Dhruti got a caterer to provide a "continental" menu of 3 kinds of pasta , soup, and a host of such things.

This year we decided we would go with our traditional macaroni in white sauce (the kind we had before we heard of beschamel and ragu) with tomato ketchup, crackers and cheese, and etc. And we would have a few Thai items on the menu.

Desert was to be a rum cake from re-Joyce made in the traditional goan style. And since the champagne cooler at Nitin's favorite wine story broke the previous night - we would go with my favorite - Sangria.

The ENT at Sadr Bazaar not withstanding the throat was pretty bad. So on the way to my parent's house I stopped at the chemist and got some cough syrup. I drank a couple of tablespoons full and made my way upstairs.

I helped set the table and was cutting the cake. I tasted a couple of pieces. YumMMMy!!! Then I told my cousins and niece to finish making the fresh rolls cos i really had to take a nap.

I woke up as the sangria was being made... and I just had to have some. It wasn't right - so we worked on it, tasting it... and then it was just delicious. So we all had a glass.

My dad said later that he had a very good time. So did all the other guests. Me - I am still trying to remember. But the macaroni and white sauce were delicious with the ketchup. So was the sangria !