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 !