22 July 2016

Moonlight run!

Samaresh and I ventured out very early today to run 5K together in the moonlight. We tried capturing pictures of the moon with our iPhones – but it is a very elusive subject… After Samaresh left, another 8K all by myself watching the dawn break!!

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21 July 2016

Three hours with one of the most graceful ladies I know…

Way back in 1972 – I was barely a six year old, I recollect going to a neighbor’s house with my sister around lunch time. Cannot remember why – but I suspect we wanted to play with her son – Jayanta – that time all of four or five years old. I also recollect Jayanta not being there (he was in school) but Mrs Dey (that is the lady in question) gracefully kept me and my sister busy by playing with us. Eventually, her son came back from school – and he straightway started throwing up. Apparently, he had thrown up at school too. Mrs. Dey checked his lunch box (called tiffin box in India) and the food was found to be completely uneaten. Before even she could tend to him, her first reaction was to give the fresh orange from his box to me and my sister. And then as she turned her attention to her own son, my sister and myself made ourselves scarce. (We had a prized orange in our hand, mind you).

She left our neighborhood soon thereafter, but my entire life, I have always remembered her for her grace.

Much later in life, I got to know her again. We got brought together mostly because her son and I studied in the same set of schools – from my fifth grade – all the way to engineering college after which he left for US and I decided to stay back in India. (I know, eventually my plans had to be changed. You can blame Citibank for that 🙂 ) But going back to her, over time I did visit her house later, and I recollect that Uncle (Mr. Dey) was always busy going out to play cards (he was a much accomplished Bridge player) but she would patiently sit me down and have all the time to listen to all the blabbering I had to do when I was young.

Much much later again, I had found out that she was visiting her son in Boston and I had made some time from my work related trip – barely an hour – to go see her. And then, again, it became very sparse connection, if any at all.

Finally, she came to stay for some time with her son (who recently has moved to Atlanta). I did go see her and we went out for dinner after she came over. But this was with (and I am not complaining) the whole family.

However, this week, I was able to corner her one on one for over three hours sitting outside in a restaurant very close to her son’s house. That was one of my best times ever. Just having that connection and trust level from having played under her supervision was enough to open up much more than I can even dream of opening up to any other adults (frankly, even friends).

There were way too many things we talked about. But here is a real funny thing – I was in touch with a old colleague of hers (I visited that lady in 2014) that she had been looking for for some time and she was in touch with a kids I used to play with that I have been looking for 15 years!! We had an even barter of phone numbers!! She also reminded me of an event that I have only a blurry memory of. My dad had organized a carrom competition in the neighborhood and the graceful Mrs. Dey was to give out the awards. You want to guess who won the competition? Mr. Dey!!!

There are not too many adults of that age group who can make me feel that comfortable around them as she can and consistently has. I am awkward to begin with. But she has a way of making me feel at ease to open up.

I can’t believe that I started my life in a very small town – way back in India – literally at the edges of the town (only two more streets separated us from the cemetery at the outskirts of the town) – just a few steps from this lady and many a year later, almost on the other end of world, we are again so close in the same city. (although she pops in and out of US and India).

Here’s to a few more of those three hour sessions!!

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19 July 2016

Open letter to my first wife, Sharmila

Sub: Why I am worried that we are Facebook friends

Sharmila,
I am moved to enough concern observing a pattern from my Facebook friends (whose posts are also visible to you) that I feel compelled to write to you. The aforementioned pattern relates to seemingly unending torrent of my friends congratulating their spouse(s) on their (and I assume this is meant to be their spouses’) anniversary.

Let’s start with the circular nature of the congratulations first. At the risk of exposing my naivete, I would go out on a limb and suggest that a friend and his/her spouse are almost always guaranteed to have the exact same marriage anniversary. I have come to this conclusion – after much head scratching, I must hasten to add – by sticking to my rather empirically backed observation that a friend and their spouse has had the same exact marriage. Kind of a definition thing. Therefore, I have concluded that congratulating you on your anniversary would be really congratulating you on making your choice – me!!! And that gets within a spitting distance of being Donal Trump-ish.

What however, causes me particular consternation is their declaration of “best wife/husband in the world” or some such superlative use of adjectives. Elementary grammar dictates that for anybody to declare another person to be the “best” spouse”, one has to have enjoyed a minimum of three spouses (or is the plural “spice”?) in their life. So far, most of those friends has had, to the best of my reckoning, (see, I can use “best” because I have had many reckonings about those friends) – or would at least admit to having – only one spouse. Declaring that one to be the best is like a Sierra Leone guy claiming it to be the best country in the whole wide world without seeing any other country. Some, admittedly has had two spouses, but even in those cases, I would submit that “better” would be a proper word. Not to speak of the danger of tooting one’s horns with a batting average of a meager one in two.

Then there is that small point of our relationship being nothing like the description of their relationship I read on their FB posts (and their anniversary congratulations). You fight with me, you throw tantrums at me, you insist I clean up after myself and even after I have promised to do something, you unnecessarily keep reminding me of it. Repeatedly. Every six months, in fact. Nothing like the charmed life I read about my friends on their Facebook congratulatory note.

Between us, one of us can’t even remember our anniversary date. No point taking names. We are a team. But let’s agree it is not me. Initially I thought your reaction after reading all those self-congratulatory notes from my friends would be “Oh! okay, it is not our date today. So, he did not send me a FB post”. Now I think you are going everyday “Maybe it is today. How come he did not send anything. He always forgets. You know what – that is proof that is is TODAY. Wait till he comes home. How can he do this to me?”

There is only one thing I will admit to – and even that after you have injected me with a healthy dose of truth serum (or a couple of glasses of red wine in my currency – whichever is easier to procure). I will readily admit that I always wanted somebody who is not like me – who is willing to fight, throw tantrums, box my ears to clean up stuff and remind me of my “Honey-dos”. And if I were to live life all over again in real life – not on social media – I would not want anybody other than you to be that person that would constantly nag and irritate me.

So, happy anniversary to me. Now, you go figure out the date!!

– Rajib 🙂

Note for the readers: In case there was any curiosity, I refer to Sharmila as my first wife since I am absolutely confident of that fact. I have no empirical evidence to suggest she is my last wife. Elementary logic would suggest that I cannot establish that till I die. It would be extremely difficult for me to post any blogs at that point of time though.

18 July 2016

From the bartender’s corner – Negroni Sbagliato

Did some research on different kind of Spritzes and thought would try this one out today. If you like Negroni or slightly bitter drinks, you might enjoy this. BTW, “sbagliato” means mistaken or incorrect in Italian. That might have to do with the fact that, by mistake, Prosecco was added instead of gin!

Here is the history I read: The legendary Bar Basso in Milan (which originally opened in 1933 and moved to its current space in 1947) claims to have given birth to this drink. The jovial proprietor Maurizio Stocchetto tells his patrons the story that his father Mirko – the legendary midcentury barman and original owner of the place – was the “accidental” inventor of the drink in the early 1970s. (By mistake added Prosecco instead of gin).

If anyone of you ever visit Milan, try out this place (it is on Via Plinio) and check out their handblown goblets and huge icecubes that they serve this drink with.

Campari, Sweet Vermouth and Prosecco.

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