My mom!!
Waiting at DC airport, I called up mom to let her know we have reached US safely. I was expecting her to talk about all the fun we had while I was there – all the trips – or maybe give an update about my dad or might be even ask about my flights.
But no!
The first thing she said in a remorseful voice moment I said “Hello”, was “Issshhh! chholar daal khaona holo na ebar”. (She forgot to cook a particular dish for me!!!)
Not sure of all moms – certainly all Bengali moms think that way!!
There is a snippet from an old Bengali poem which is very appropriate..
“….. hey mugdho jononi
Rekhecho Bangali korey; manush koroni” !!!!
But I am sure I speak for all Bengalis when I say we will not have it any other way!!!
Profile of a Rajib
There is this young guy – you can see him in the picture – who I see at times downstairs in the building that my dad lives in Kalyani. My sister had mentioned that he is the security guy during night time. His shift starts from 11 PM to 6 AM. Which is why I do not see him that often when I am at my dad’s place.
But in the past, he has helped me a couple of times. Most of the times, he took pictures of my brother and myself after the early morning run as we stretched in front of the building. This time, my curiosity got the better of me. He is a very young and very likable person. I wanted to hear his story.
So, on Friday, I went down early – around 5am. Dad was still sleeping. And we were not going to run since we were to head out to Kolkata in the morning. My brother and I offered him a cup of tea and started getting to know him.
We hit it off very well straightway for two reasons. His name is also Rajib and his hair has been thinning out rapidly at a very early age too π The rest of the story was pretty humbling. I do not think the story is any different from millions of other families in India or for that matter in America. But getting to know somebody who lives that life is always a setter of perspective. I wish my daughters were around that day just to appreciate how blessed we have been.
My first question was why was he working as a guard instead of studying. We got to know that he is indeed doing both. He is doing his undergraduate in Arts (that would be English, History and Political Science in India). He is preparing for his first year exams. So, that would make him around 19-20 years, as I reckoned. Fortunately, in India, basic education can be much cheaper (even on a relative basis) than America. So, he is not working to put himself thru school. He has to do it to support his family.
Found out that his dad sells fish in the market. His mom is the maid servant in the flat (apartment) right opposite to my dad’s. He is the eldest of four siblings. And to support the family, as an eldest son, he is working during night to make some money.
I asked him about how did he manage his sleep what with college and working at night. Found out that while there are some days he gets no sleep, most days he can will himself to sleep for a couple of hours in the morning and a couple of hours late evening regardless of the weather and sound level. And then he often utilizes the boredom of sitting in a place at night to finish off his studies.
So, I asked him, what would he like to do when he grew up. “Be a teacher”, he was very sure. I asked him why? That is not necessarily the most high paying job that he can go after. He talked about a few teachers in his school that had inspired him and he apparently always wanted to be like them. And then he said something that my brother and I later discussed at length on our drive back to Kolkata. He said “More than money, I want respect”. I could not think of a better tribute to teachers worldwide.
Such a nice, soft spoken person. So determined to make something out of himself. I have little doubt someday he will be a great teacher.
In a reversal of roles, my brother then took a picture of him with myself!
I know that stool!!
I had gone inside mom’s kitchen for something, I cannot even recollect for what. But under a pile of stuff, I thought I recognized something. I saw the broken footrest (that narrow wooden piece between two adjacent legs of a stool that you put your foot on. Is there a proper word for it?). That looked familiar but something was different.
So I put all the pile of stuff down and immediately recognized the stool. It obviously had been repainted but I distinctly remembered that broken footrest… and therefore the stool. Pulled the stool out in sunlight, cleaned it and took a few pictures.
This is the stool that, in its prime, had seen great many speeches given by some great orators (okay, mostly me) to a rapt and attentive audience (okay, mostly my brother and sister, but we are quibbling over details now). This stool was one of our favorite props for many a game we used to play – over 40 years back. This was what we used to climb up some trees and on the roof of the cowshed. And this is what I used to give my speeches to my siblings. This was also used as the “winner’s stand”.
I particularly remember that last part because there was this one day when – and the details of the exact game that we were playing escapes me now – we decided that all three of us had won the first prize. So, all three of us were going to get on the stool. Which was not a big deal for a stool made of “segun kaath” (see next para), but I do not think it was built for all three of us to step on the same footrest together in an attempt to climb to the top of the stool simultaneously. One snap and three bitten tongues later, we got a sound talking to by my dad which rapidly and unceremoniously got us down from the winner’s elation π
This time I asked my mom about how old the stool was. Found out that when my dad and mom got married, my mom’s dad had gotten a carpenter to make a few pieces of furniture from “segun kaath” (I am not sure what the English word for this tree is but it is a very hardy and durable wood) and gifted my dad. That stool was one of them. So, apparently it was born in 1965. Seems to be still in very good shape nearly fifty years later. Except for that one broken limb π What a great witness to our family’s history of 50 years!!!
And I love this family too!!
Returning from India. Together with father in law and mother in law. Reached Dubai. Sitting in Business Lounge. Watching the two in laws argue.
I got myself a glass of wine. My MIL immediately jumped on me – Did you not have one in the plane? I confirmed that and reminded her that I had one before getting on the plane too π
Then my FIL joined in complaining that MIL did not allow him to drink a glass of white wine in the plane. MIL is claiming that she stopped him from drinking the second glass. FIL is insisting that he did not have any. MIL is pointing out that she saw the lady come and pour. FIL is retorting that initially she put an empty glass down π
All this, without Sharmila being anywhere near to join in the fray. This is going to be an awesome summer for me!!!
A really unique intersection point!
In the annals of my intersection points, this would go down as one of the most unique ones. For a simple reason. For the first time, I actually met Kanta!! We have known each other for the last nearly 30 years, written letters to each other but never actually physically met.
Till today!!
Let me see if I can piece this together. I have attempted at a graph too…
Line 1: I had a friend during my school days called Shukla. She had a room mate in college called Kanta Lahiri. I had become pen-pals with her thru an introduction from Shukla
Line 2: My best friend from school days was Avijit. He was also a common friend with Shukla. He later worked in Apollo hospital in Kolkata. He moved on later to Perth, Australia.
Line 3: My dad had his knee surgery done a couple of years back at Apollo hospital by a surgeon named Dr. Chatterjee
Line 4: Last year, I traced Kanta down in Facebook. Avijit Bose noticed my new friend.
Line 5. And he put all this together to create the mega coincidence. Kanta is married to Dr. Chatterjee!!! Because, Kanta also had worked in Apollo for some time!!!
The simple equation is: my pen pal is married to my dad’s surgeon. But I needed a few more people in the equation to get the tenuous chain together!!
It was a perfect meeting!! I wish I had some more time to talk to her. Our discussions covered every point in our chain (some more than others π ), our professional lives (she is a very accomplished executive), health deterioration of our parents/in laws (we had similar experiences with depression in family members) and then my inevitable question – “What life lessons have you learnt that I can benefit from?”
Another intersection point!
I had promised this old friend from college days – Hena – that I would visit her when I am in India. I missed my promise last couple of times. Not this time! Met her after 1988. (It was at her home. Her mom had made omelettes for Debotosh and me). Also had the good fortune of meeting her husband Kallol!
Caught up with her parents, siblings, common friends and such. The best part of our discussion was exchanging data on a null hypothesis I have: students who did well in studies in our old Indian education style (the one I grew up with) and students who later met with success in professional life are by and large negatively correlated!
Winding down..
Oh! come on! Life is too short
You folks remember a recent cartoon picture of mine that I got done? The one that, as the venerable Narayan thought, the artist put the bulb inside my head instead of outside? I am attaching a small version of it here.
Well, I carefully packed that picture in a tube and got it to India. I wanted to give it to my parents. I was hoping they will slide it under that big glass top they have on the study table along with all sorts of other memorabilia – including pictures of me from news paper clippings and other felicitations. You know, I thought it would put a smile on their face every time they saw it. It is a funny picture. And if they cared to think a little more deeply, they should take great satisfaction from the fact that they have raised a son that has no qualms about making fun of himself.
Ah! That is where I went wrong. The wrath of Bengali parents towards anybody who makes fun of their son is writ large in their personas. Even if it means it is their own son making fun of himself!
First I asked my mom if she could recognize the person. Confidently, she replied “Pronob Mukhujje”. I am like “What? For starters, he has hair. Second, why would I carry a Bengali politician’s picture in my suitcase?”. Finally, when I told her, she said that there is nothing funny about how I look and stormed off to the kitchen.
Somewhat deflated, I went to my dad and showed it to him. He kept on thinking for a few minutes but could not come up with anything. So, I told him it is a caricature of my face. His response was “artist-er hathta ekhono paaka hoi ni” (“the artist has not matured yet in his skills”). And by the way, he would have nothing to do with putting that picture anywhere in his house.
Now this poor picture is going to make a long haul back to America with me. I thought about giving it to my sister or sister-in-law. I am sure they will reject it outright out of fear of my parents.
But fret not!! I have my revenge planned out already. You see, every December, I make one of those large photo calendars and send one each to all my relatives – parents, in laws, siblings, brother-in-law etc. Every page has multiple pictures of Sharmila and the daughters and myself. The idea is to remind them about the family far away. I also put every family member’s birthdays and wedding anniversaries – there are about 25 entries or so. The idea is the family members should not forget to wish each other on those special dates.
Well, this time, I am first going to get a few more cartoon pictures of mine drawn. And then, in every page, along with some nice pictures of Sharmila and the kids, I will insert one small cartoon picture of myself. I want to see if they will I put it up on the wall. They will be torn between showing off their family in America to all guests who come by and having to admit that their son looks funny π
Devious enough, huh? Muahahahahah!!!! π