30 October 2017

Is there such a word? What do you think?

Back in 1977, Kelvin Donegan was our English teacher. With his blonde hair, fair skin, smart dress, sharp goatee and a motorcycle to boot – we, the fifth graders, were in awe of him.

When he said something, we listened. And remembered.

One day that year, one of my classmates (I forget who it was) had used the phrase “bus stoppage” in one of those “make sentence” exercises. “Bus stoppage” was (and I suspect still is) very commonly used in Bengal. Not sure of outside Bengal.

In any case, Sir Donegan had firmly told us that there was no such thing as “Bus Stoppage”. That is a made up word by Bengalis. Ever since, I got used to saying and writing “Bus Stop”.

While being driven to the airport a couple of days back, I noticed this sign along EM Bypass (these have been put up for the FIFA Under 17 World Cup being held in Kolkata).

I realized that “Bus Stoppage” is still alive and kicking in Bengal.

Just to be sure, quickly checked Google. Apparently, “stoppage” is a perfectly good word. But looks like “Bus Stoppage” may not be.

Any opinions out there?

30 October 2017

Very successful year in meeting my old class (home room) teachers

This year, I have been able to locate and visit 9 out of 10 of my home room teachers. They are strewn all over India. Each search was very satisfying (of course after the frustration of numerous false leads). In the end, being able to say “Thank you” to each and every one of them face to face has been an unforgettable experience! As I have maintained before, they were crucial influences in my formative years. I have no doubt that without their combined influence, I would not be who I am.

I am left with only one teacher from seventh grade – Mrs. Srinivasan. This one is going to be very tough. She was there only for a very short duration. I remember many of the events from her class. But so far, I have found only two persons (both teachers) who even remember that there was such a person. Will keep searching…

Meanwhile, time to move on to the subject teachers then!!

29 October 2017

The choice was clear..

The risk was that if I missed my flight back, I would surely miss my long haul back home to US. The opportunity was that my eighth grade class teacher had just moved to Siliguri and if I could align all my flights, I had a window of opportunity of about an hour and a half to see her. After 1980. That is almost 38 years if you are keeping count.

After much dilly dallying, I decided to take the risk. How cool would it be for me to say that in one single calendar year, I met 9 out of 10 of my home room teachers of my life? (The tenth one is a very different equation; more on her later). Plus my goal for this trip to India was to take care of my dad and with any extra time, I was to meet my old teachers.

That decision took me to a flight to Bagdogra and then a pre-paid taxi later. I was standing face to face with the lady who was my class room teacher of eighth grade. It was instant magic. It was almost half an hour of just running thru our old teachers and students from our school, that I remembered to ask her if I could wash my face. (It was a hot day here and the pre paid taxi was non AC).

We were the second batch in Miss Nandita Gurung’s long teaching career. Obviously, we had a lot of fond memories of other teachers, our school, our head master and some of the students. But the best part was me learning Miss Gurung’s personal background.

A highlight of the day was meeting her husband – Mr. Uday Gurung. We talked about a lot of things and we had a lot of connections – from motorcycle riding to mixology. (I am now intrigued about the motorcycle ride from Leh to Ladakh). What was most impressive to me was how Mr. Gurung had fought back cancer successfully.

Siliguri is my sister’s town. After getting married, she moved to Siliguri. I have come here many times. I even have pictures of goats waiting to cross the runway after the plane cleared from over 20 years back. My sister moved out about 10 years back.

It was just great to visit to a town that I had some familiarity with. With a teacher that have a lot to be thankful for.

Picked up quite a few tips about the mountain areas from Mr.and Mrs. Gurung. Natasha is the mountain person at home. Maybe, I can entice her to visit this part of the world soon!!

29 October 2017

Interesting toll booth receipt!

I was browsing idly the toll receipt that my brother received at the Palsit Toll Booth on the expressway to Durgapur. I had almost thrown it into the glove compartment when something caught my eye. You can see it for yourself the line that caught my eye.

Note that some of the letters had gotten wiped out. But as it stood then, it read
IS FATAL SAFE SEX IS HE KEY

One can guess that the second part is to read “Safe sex is THE key”. The first part was probably “STD” or “HIV” or something like that being fatal.

Once you have gotten past that, you have to ask yourself the question – What the heck is that message doing on a toll booth receipt on the highway? If it is meant for some of the long distance truck drivers (who if I recollect from a research is a segment with high propensity of unsafe sex), I assure you they cannot read English. They cannot even follow far simpler English like “Keep safe distance”, “Stay in your lane” or “No overtaking”.

And you know what was my observation looking at the vehicles on the highway? SPEEDING is fatal. Driving without helmet is fatal. That would be more appropriate message! And safe sex would not help in any of those…

Any opinion why this placement of the message?

29 October 2017

Radhachura

Drove to my in laws’ place in Durgapur yesterday and spent an hour with them. Most of the discussions there were around physical ailments and doctors and medicines. Decided I was eminently too young to be involved in those discussions 🙂 Letting my brother hold fort with them, I ventured out in their garden (my father in law has great green thumbs) to see if I could take some pictures of flowers with my iPhone.

This one, I believe is a Radhachura. Not sure of the English name. We grew up in Durgapur with this flower and its close relative Krishnachura (which was entirely yellow in color).

Anybody knows the English names?

28 October 2017

The mix master!!

Mathew Lepcha from ITC Sonar in Kolkata is undoubtedly one of my most favorite mixologist. Will definitely feature in my Top 3. Anytime I am near Kolkata, I have to drop by at his bar to pick up a few more lessons in organic chemistry.

Today, I learnt a new trick of making some very interesting looking cocktails that includes baloons, isopropyl alchohol, syringe and dry ice!!! We exchanged a lot of notes today about cocktails.

In the end, he made a special drink for me and I had to guess the ingredients – I got 2 out of 4 right. The base of green cocounut water and the rose essence – although I missed the lack of pink color and went with rose syrup. I could not decide between rum or vodka – it weas rum – I am a gin guy and not a rum guy – and I could not name the khus. Khus is not something I use much in my drinks. I liked it. Especially for the hot Atlanta summers, it would be a good substitute for mints.

Very few people are as knowledgeable and as passionate about mixology as Mathew is. The guy is an absolutely delightful person to know. If you like cocktails, he is totally the guy you have to know!!!

28 October 2017

“You will get a cigarette” !!!

Circa: Jan, 1977.
I had just walked into a new school in my fifth grade. I knew nobody in my class. I had gone and sat down in class 5B – that is where my name had showed up in the long list in front of the headmaster’s room.

Soon, our home room teacher (class teacher) walked in. She seemed jovial and strict at the same time. I was just a scaredy cat. Everything was new – new school, new building, new uniform, new faces, new teacher…

Knew nothing!!

As the teacher settled down after our rather disunited “Good morning, miss”, one of the first question she asked was “Who is the first boy?”. Well, I was a “first boy” but from a different school. So, that did not count. Shounak raised his hand.

“Well, you will be the class monitor. You will report to me any misbehavior in our class and I will give that student a cigarette”.

The new school, new building, new uniform, new faces, new teacher was scary enough. I did not need a teacher giving out cigarettes. And what kind of school did my dad get me in to? Why would the teacher give a cigarette? And how is that even a penalty?

Much later I learnt that all of us were to get a “conduct” report card every other week that we had to get our parents to sign off on. And if we did not behave, we would be awarded a “C-grade”. Apparently, not a “cigarette”!!

That teacher was Miss Lakshmi Dutta. She was our math teacher in fifth grade. She taught chemistry when we were in higher grades. And then she left the school. In 1979!!

About four decades later, this year, I had discovered that she lived very close to my brother. My previous attempt to meet her was futile since she was unwell. I almost had the same bad luck this time. Today, she was unwell too and the only reason we did not have a longer meeting is that she had to go to the doctor. But we did meet! After almost four decades!!

You would think that by now, I should be used to meeting my home room teachers after decades. Nothing could be further from the truth. Meeting Miss Dutta was as exhilarating as it could be.

Anybody who was her teacher would probably remember her for a few things – she giving a lot of students some unique names – “Kaan Khaara”, “Morobba” (for most of them those names have stuck for a life time) – and those trips to the chemistry lab where she would make the fire in the bunsen burner turn into different colors …

Today, I got to know about her original birthplace, her life journey, her granddad, her dad, her own schooling, her siblings, her selfless support for her dad and mom during their last years in life…

This meeting was no less humbling than that first day I had met her in 1977!! I hope to see her a few more times since she is so close to where my brother lives…