24 March 2018

Amit Khetarpal!!!

It was almost three decades that I had been fruitlessly trying to track this guy down. We went to school together from fifth to tenth grade. Then during our engineering days, I had visited him and his roommate Pratik once. Way later, when I was working in Bombay, he had come and stayed with me for a couple of days. And then for 26 years, it has been radio silence. I had come close to tracking him down many times and shot emails or left voicemails at what I was given to understand might be his email and phone number. No responses, whatsoever!!!

About five months back, Mrs. Godura gave me a tip that Amit was going to be at her daughter’s place and gave me her daughter’s contacts. And that was how the elusive person was finally nailed. I remember having a very long conversation that day catching with him as he drove down the highway to his home city. Amit readily admitted that he had become a recluse and was trying to get out of that.

This morning, I was able to see him finally! After so many years! Actually after too many years! What was to be an hour or hour and a half meeting was going strong even after three and a half hours. We could have easily gone for another three and half an hours if I did not have to go and meet my daughters!

Sitting at that coffee shop, we went thru an endless cycle of :

Step 1: Amit: “Do you remember so-and-so?”. It would be a friend from our class or a teacher.
Step 2: Rajib… rambling on some updates of the person and appearing distracted doing something on this phone. Finally he hands the phone to Amit saying “Here is a picture. I visited him/her a couple of years back”
Step 3: Amit, completely silent, zooms the picture and recognizing another friend or teacher after so many years is totally overcome by emotion. The emotion of remembering some of the moments of the past was easily discernible in his voice and eyes.

And we we would repeat the above steps over and over again…

It was hilarious for me to hear how Amit remembered some of his early childhood days. Especially how he would skip a bus stop so that he had a chance of seeing the girls (we were in a all boys school and there was a parallel all girls school) from Carmel school who would be walking home. But what he feared most was if any would try talking to him. Apparently, he was totally scared of talking to any of girls!!!

Thank you Amit for making time on a Saturday morning – driving up to the city to see me and spend so much of your time with me. It was a marvelous throwback to the years where we would sit in benches next to each other in our grey shorts and white shirts with that “Like Gold in a Furnace” emblem emblazoned across our pockets… 1977, as i recollect, we did it for the first time… we were clueless then… and if today’s discussion on pursuit of happiness four decades later is any indicator… we were clueless now too.

But blissful, all the same.

And that counts.

Category: Intersection Points | 8 Comments on Amit Khetarpal!!!
23 March 2018

Devinder Kumar!

One of the very few guys that I can claim to have had as a classmate during my engineering days as well as in my MBA days is this gentleman – Devinder Kumar! In fact, we were in the same branch (Computer Science) and same hostel during our engineering days.

Two things I always remember Devinder by – the quietness in his demeanor and that constant smile. Met him today after 27 long years! He was busy with his work day – but was able to come out for half an hour to have a coffee with me.

Caught up with his life after we parted ways in 1991. The crazy part is that he has just not changed in his looks – in spite of all these years!!! Even crazier is that his son studies in Georgia Tech in Atlanta where I live and I had no idea!!!

Category: Intersection Points | 4 Comments on Devinder Kumar!
20 March 2018

For good old time’s sake!!

That was four of my colleagues from mid ’90s under one roof! Just like in the ’90s, I did my level best to bring down the average IQ at that table. What if you had overheard what we were discussing? In the ’90s, that table would have been passionately arguing about constrained anchored optimization and supply chain and all that. In the ’00s, we would be probably talking about our new jobs (most of us went our own ways).

Last night, in an indication of how old we have gotten, the topic de jure was meditation versus mindfulness. Don’t ask me how we got into that. But one thing has remained the same over the years. The passion in our articulation!! Although, I think we have become more thoughtful listeners now.

The best quote of the evening came from Magesh: “You can text the text. Now can you talk the talk?”

Thank you Anand, Madhav, Karthik and Magesh for a great throwback to the yesteryears!! I could not have grown up to be whatever it is that I am today without being surrounded by smart folks like you!

Category: Intersection Points | 4 Comments on For good old time’s sake!!
17 March 2018

Post bike ride relaxation

As enjoyable as the bike ride was, the sitting by fire with some scotch and wine with the two guys who got me into motorbiking was even more enjoyable. That was almost six hours of discussions on mostly philosophical questions.

The most intriguing topic was “What if you were told that you have one year to yourself – you do not have to worry about family responsibilities, you do not have to worry about work – you got one year to go out in the world and do whatever you want to do – what all would be in your list of things to do and why?”

Undoubtedly made all the more enjoyable for Magesh and Avijit by the fact that I have a throat infection and could not speak a lot 🙂

[In case you were worried, nobody rode after drinking. Their bikes are in our garage and they were dropped home].

Category: Our Friends | 3 Comments on Post bike ride relaxation
11 March 2018

The great arcs of life…

“Dad, I want to go to Europe during spring break. I have saved enough money to pay for it”.
“Is this a sudden plan? How many of you are going?”, I asked the nineteen year old.
“Well, I will be going just by myself. I want to go to Berlin and then Prague. But I want to pay for it myself”

Ummm… payment was not the thing uppermost in my mind. I was probably quiet for a few seconds. Sensing not everything to be in order, she asked again “Are you okay with it?”
“You know mom will have conniptions about this, right?”, I tried avoiding her question directly.
“Yes. But what do you think?”

A few more seconds. Too many thoughts flashed by…

“Yes. I will be okay. Stay safe and make sure you are always in touch with mom and me. I will talk to mom and we will straighten this out”.
“But, I will pay for this dad”.
“I get it.”

Next few days was some hectic planning for the travel. When it comes to travel, I am a confirmed romantic. Nothing gets me more excited than finding out the best way to fly somewhere and where to stay and all that. There is something extremely exciting about planning for a trip – let alone the trip itself.

However, at that moment, when I kept the phone down after talking to Natasha, my mind raced back to an incident thirty five years or so back. I was barely sixteen and had just finished my tenth grade exams and I had a few months of summer vacation at hand.

I had walked up to my mom and said “Mom, I want to go see grandpa”. Grandpa – my mother’s dad – was not keeping particularly well and I had not seen him for a few years. My mom and dad – both of whom worked – had not had much time to visit him either. First, I had the all important tenth grade exams and just before that my grandma (dad’s side) had passed away at our place after suffering from cancer for two years. They had had no time to go check on my grandpa.

My mom immediately dismissed me. “You will go when your uncle goes to visit him”. (uncle being my mother’s brother who lived not too far from us)
“But I want to go by myself”.
“Do you know where your grandfather lives?”
“No. But I know the village name. I can ask my uncle how to go there”.

My grandfather had retired from work and then moved back to his ancestral home in a remote village. I had never ever gone to that village – nor knew how to get there.

“Talk to your dad when he comes back from office”.
I went off to sleep too tired to wait for my dad who was going to finish his late shift and come home that night.

Next day, first thing in the morning, I accosted dad. “Dad, I want to go visit grandpa”
“Why?”
“I just want to. He is not doing well.”
“Is uncle going?”
“No. I want to go by myself”
“Is a friend going with you?”
“No. I can ask Avijit. But I want to go by myself”
“So, you just want to travel by yourself, right?”
“Actually, yes”, I finally sheepishly accepted. I just wanted to make a point that I have traveled by myself. I could have gone to Timbuktu for all I cared. I had come up with the idea of grandpa thinking I would approach mom at her weakest point.

Dad looked at me. And then looked down. Could not have been more than a few seconds. It was eternity for me.
“Dad, please. I will be fine”, I pleaded.
He finally looked up and said – “Okay. I will talk to mom” and then laid down some rules for travel.
“Yes?”, I remember having almost yelled. Completely surprised, I might add.
“I had to get out of home at an earlier age to look for food. You should be able to do this”. And then he repeated the rules – lest I had not heard the first time.

Talking to Natasha over the phone the other day, I finally felt I was with my dad in those silent moments before I said Yes to Natasha. I realized that just like me on this day, he too would have flashed thru some worst case scenarios in his mind that day. These were days without any phone services. And by that I mean – no phone services – forget mobile – no land lines either. There were no Google maps. You just asked people for directions and help.

Once I left home, the only thing that was known was that I was going to return on a particular day. That was one of the rules dad had laid out. I was to be home the morning of the third day from when I left. Another rule, I remember he had for me was to wake up early in the morning to go anywhere. If I did not reach by 3 PM, I had to give up and make the return trip. Those days, there were no hotels – and certainly, even if there were, we could not afford it. (I had spent less than 50 rupees – or about 85 cents in today’s money) in that whole trip.

Somehow, me remembering my dad telling me “You should be able to do this” weighed very heavy during my silent moments with Natasha. I realized that the child had become the father of the man. I was put exactly where I had put my dad.

To finish up the story… Natasha is having a great time in Europe and she is keeping in touch with us multiple times every day.

While I did not have the maturity to realize then what my dad had gone thru mentally, I do now. I have a deeper empathy for the balancing act of all the worst fears and yet being able to let a child grow up that he had to go thru then.

One bus trip, two train rides and another bus trip later, I finally had gotten down at the bus stop close to our house. It was in the morning of the third day, as I was told. My dad was there at the bus stop!!

I now realize that I have never asked him how long had he been waiting at the bus stop (with obviously no information from my side – and heaven knows what he must have gone thru those couple of days). You see, that day I was too busy walking briskly ten feet ahead of him as he followed me – I was too mad that he had embarrassed me in front of our neighbors by coming to pick me up from the bus stop.

Sigh!

Strange are the ways how life reminds you that it works in great arcs …

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Category: My Family | 52 Comments on The great arcs of life…
5 March 2018

Mom and the art of motorcycle communications

Of all the things I look forward to every morning, talking to my mom has to be one of the top of the list ones. Not for the sentimental value. But the hilarity of the discussions. Usually the discussions center around three key themes :

(*) Complaints about my dad – of which there are many. He is either trying too hard or not much at all. Or he is being too aggressive or too passive. He just cannot seem to hit the right spot.

(*) Weather – the mood for the entire day for my mom, I have come around to believe – is set by how conducive the weather is to drying out the clothes that she puts out on the clothesline every day after washing them. Bright sun? “Bhalo weather aaj”. (It is a good weather day). Even then she will slip in once in a while a complaint about how hot it is getting 🙂

(*) My niece – apparently she is not studying enough. This complaint incidentally has never changed in intensity over the years and is, by and large, totally uncorrelated to how much my niece actually studies.

And then once in a while, she will stray off to other topics – usually leaving her mightily confused. Today was such a day…

She started by asking what did I do on Niki’s birthday. I told her that Niki had dance practices the whole day. And then she went for the movies with her friends.

For good measure – and this is where I think I brought this upon myself – I told her that it was a glorious sunny day. Since, I did not have to worry about drying any clothes that particular morning, I took the motorcycle and went up to the mountains.

That took some time for her to grasp. “Othhatey paarli?”, she finally asked. She literally asked me if I could lift the motorcycle up the mountains. I think she had a mental picture of her poor son huffing and puffing as he dragged a much reluctant bike up the hills…

“Othhatey paarli maaney? Eki teney hichrey tultey hoy naaki? O to nijey nijey uthe porey”.
(What do you mean if I could pull it up? It is not like I have to drag it along. I ride on it)

I think she was suitably convinced. Now, some of you who follow my posts are probably aware that my mom is a psychiatric patient herself. One of the challenges she has is remembering new things.

“Tui ekta Hero Honda kinechhis na?”, was her next question.
Now, a brief background… when we were growing up, Hero Honda (a company in India with collaboration with the Japanese company) had brought out a two wheeler for the common person. It was pretty inexpensive those days and had very little power compared to two wheelers you can get in India these days. I think it was literally a 50 cc engine. When I had heard how much it could go on a liter of petrol, I had a legitimate doubt on whether it ran on petrol or petrol vapors. (“Teley chhotey na teler gondhhe?”)

To my mom – all two wheelers are the same. Every motorcycle is a Hero Honda she remembers from 35 years back. Which also explained why she thinks on a sunny day I go around dragging my “Hero Honda” up the mountains.

“Yes, mom! That is what I have bought. A little bigger – so that it can climb mountains by itself”.

“Bhalo korechhis”.

Finally, she was satisfied!

Category: Family in India | 13 Comments on Mom and the art of motorcycle communications