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.
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.

100th run of the year. Put in a half-marathon
13.1 miles (21.1km) at 9:36 min/mile pace to wrap up the 100th run of the year. Started in early morning but by the time I finished 2 hours and 5 minutes later, it was very bright sunlight. The 100th run of the year was also made memorable by the snake that I came upon. In spite of running low on salt and sugar, I had enough presence of mind to let the snake have the right of the way!!

From the bartender’s corner – Pegu
It has been a long time – with the trip to India and Blue Mountain Ranges – since I had cooked up a concoction. I had slept off this evening – after four consecutive days of four or less hours of sleep. Needed something to shake me up and get me in the mood for some music.
Ergo, Pegu.
Gin, Orange Curacao, Lime juice, Orange bitters and Angostura bitters.

Very foggy morning run
“Grate”fully yours…
Somebody has checked in alright!!!
Speaking of ladies being high maintenance… Haha :-)
You better pop those pills thru the airport scanner
It was well past midnight. There was nobody at the security queue in Kolkata airport. I lazily walked up to the conveyor belt and started chatting up the CISF lady who was manning (womanning???) the scanner. I think we started talking about the tea she was drinking and then talked about how long she has been working at the airport and all that idle chit chat as I slowly fished out my laptop, iPad etc out from my backpack and started putting my wallet, phone, watch into the backpack.
Just then a gentleman – somewhat younger than me – came briskly to the spot and politely asked the lady “Tablet nikalna hai kya?” (Do I have to take out the tablet?”)
The lady muttered something. He re-asked the question. She continued to be confused and muttered something. Which was surprising for two reasons – first she was talking to me in Hindi all this time and the gentleman’s question was clear. So, her answer should have been a prompt “Yes”. The second reason is that the gentleman could easily see that I had taken my iPad out. So, his first guess should have been to do the same.
The gentleman tried explaining in hindi that many airports allow tablets to stay inside his backpack. This was his first time in this airport. So, he was checking.
Finally, the lady asked “Dher saare hai kya?” (Do you have a lot of them?)
Suddenly, a light bulb went on in my head.
I told her “Woh poochh rahe hai ki iPad nikalna hai kya” (He is asking if he has to take his iPad out). And then without waiting for her answer, I turned around to me and said “In Kolkata, you have to. Why don’t you go ahead of me? I need to rearrange something”. I let him go ahead as I continued to get my ziploc bag out and all that.
After he was gone, the lady asked me – remember, by now I had earned her confidence – “Isko ‘tab’ boltey hai kya?”. She wanted to know if it is called a “tab”. Mind you not a tablet. A tab.
I should have clarified to all my blog readers. In this part of the world, a “tablet” usually refers to a pill. (which is why she was confused by his question and wanted to know if he was carrying a lot of them).
Back to her and me, I could have easily clarified that iPads are also called Tablets. Well, you know what I mean. Instead, I figured this has been a hectic trip – lot of running around and meeting people. Now, I deserve some practical fun. So, I told her “Aarey chhoriye na madam. Yeh sab log bahar se aatey hai. Kuch bhi bolta hai”. Basically I told her not to worry at all. These big shots come from outside and call stuff whatever they want.
And smartly walked away to be frisked… 🙂




