2 November 2015

“Sobuj Songho” teammate!

Way back in 1978, there were a few of us kids – barely 10-13 years age that used to gather in the evening to play soccer. It used to be about five or six of us, we played barefoot on a piece of land that could not have been more than thirty yards by thirty yards. None of us were exactly teeming with skill but boy, did we make it up with enthusiasm. The soccer ball had multiple “gattis” (patches to cover up the holes in the stitches where the bladder would be sticking out from) – but who cared, as long as it was roughly round in shape?

In one of those ill fated evenings, we decided to put in our names in a 3-a-side soccer tournament that we had heard was being organized near us. Each one of us contributed a quarter (or about one-third of a cent today) and with the money, we went ahead and got ourselves registered.

Let me tell you how amateurish we were. We had completely forgotten to give our team a name! When the organizers pointed out the obvious flaw in our plan, we pulled ourselves aside and after much hurried debate, christened our team “Sobuj Songho”. That was a brilliant flash of innovation matched only if you hurriedly name your child John Smith! Consequently, the organizers entered our name as “Sobuj Songho #4” 🙂

We were psychologically blown apart when we saw the schedule. We were pitted against a team called “Black Diamond Express”. Most of us wanted to quit once we saw the formidable name. And then when we saw the team, we were struck with awe! They had jerseys on! We had whatever the heck we were wearing that morning still on us!!

While most of us were trying to figure how to get a honorable way out, there was one quiet, very polite teammate who suggested that we should anyways go ahead and play. In the worst case scenario, we would lose. Turns out, we got the confidence from him and actually summarily packed the much vaunted named team home!! We eventually lost a few rounds later but boy, did we get our money’s worth – all one-third of a cent – or what!!

From here, the story of the boy gets a little predictable. One more of those stories where I had been looking him up and down the world without much success whatsoever. After about 20 years of mostly fruitless phone calls and visits to the old neighborhood, about two years back, Facebook came to the rescue. I typed in a few variations of “Ajoy Ganguly” and I thought I found one face that would match what I recollected of him. Even through the bald head and the mustache, I thought I recognized the smile.

Unfortunately for me, he could not recognize me thru my bald head. I must have sent him about ten FB invites and he never accepted any of them. I tried mixing and matching social media sites and looked in Linkedin with that spelling. From the little of the profile that was visible, I could find out the company’s name. Then I shot a few messages to random people in that company (thru Linkedin) explaining that I was looking for such and such person in their company and if they would be kind enough to give him my email id and write to good old “Bachchu”.

Not a single response.

Further digging led me to realize last year that he had updated his FB profile with his home address – but no phone number! Go figure!! Using Google maps and Google Earth, I could pin point the exact building he lived in Jamshedpur. Then I spread the word around to my brother and friends that if any of them ever traveled to Jamshedpur, I had a favor to ask.

Every month or so, I would make another attempt and usually draw a blank. After finding Satabdi last week (see blog entry from a few days back), I got some renewed energy. I was telling Sharmila about the search. Who, by the way, is a big supporter of my searches of old friends. If you recollect, it was one of her prodding that ultimately led me to my first friend of life. In this case, she had a brilliant suggestion – “If you have the home address, why don’t you write a letter to him?” she asked!

After coming back from date night last night, I pulled up a paper and my favorite fountain pen. And then was struggling how to write a letter to somebody who might turn out to be a complete stranger or might not even remember me and may not even be a valid address in India. I decided to give technology another shot. I wrote an email to all variations of common email addresses you come across at his company.com. You know – aganguly, ajoy_ganguly etc etc! And went off to sleep!

I was awake by 4 am, thanks to daylight savings time ending yesterday. Checked emails – and sure enough!! There were two emails from him!! Got out of bed and made a really really long call to him! He was kicked to hear about some of our old friends that I have dug up. I was kicked to get his dad and brother’s numbers. I talked to his dad, mom and brother for another hour or so!

And Ajoy and I laughed out loud – startling the dogs – talking about “Sobuj Songho”!! More people to meet when I go to India next time!!

Here is a poetic irony. Which might explain why Sharmila kept supporting my search. Turns out Ajoy was my brother-in-law’s classmate and remembered him very well!

But you know what the real funny and lucky part was? When it is your time, it is your time, I guess. My original email last night went to a different person in the same company with the same name. Turns out my friend’s sub company uses a different domain name. But his namesake knew him (mind you, this is a company with tens of thousands of employees and these two were not even in the same location) and had forwarded my email!!!

I think I deserved that lucky break!!

29 October 2015

If only she had a different name, I might have found her long time back!!

This friend and her brother and sister were very close to me and my brother and sister. I am talking about mid seventies when I was yet to get to fourth grade. But, as it happened, we moved and then I lost contact completely. But they have been on my long list of old friends to reconnect with for over 20 years.

While technologies like cheaper phone calls to India, email, Facebook have made the act of finding your long lost friends easier, it essentially pivots on one assumption – that you know the name of the person you are looking for. While I (and my siblings) spent quite a few evenings playing with Tata (pronounced with a softer “T”) and her brother Raja and her elder sister Mithu-di, I had no living recollection of what their formal names were. As it is, changing of last names after marriage makes finding any lady by name difficult, but not knowing the names makes it hopeless. You will agree that trying to explain to electronic media how a person looked forty years back is not going to take any of us anywhere either. And trust me, you do not want to search the internet for somebody with the name “Tata”  for too long too much. Certainly not in public locations 🙂

Over the years, I had tried asking a lot of people, but like many of my residual searches, I came a cropper. Every time my brother and I go to Durgapur (about four times a year), we invariably spend a few hours going door to door looking for our old friends.

And then serendipity hit last morning. After the run by Potomac in Washington DC, I was casually checking some websites about Indian affairs and I saw somebody’s name mentioned called “Shatabdi”. An hour later, just as I was entering the shower, it hit me – Tata’s name was indeed Shatabdi. That set in motion another set of searches on internet to look for Shatabdi Roychowdhury. The search was more tedious than you can imagine. There are at least two different ways to spell “Shatabdi” and at least four variations of spelling “Roychowdhury” and that does not even take into account that some split it into two separate words.

Came up with a few possibilities. Rejected the first one since she showed up on Sharmila’s FB friend list. There was no chance that I would be looking for somebody for 20 years and Sharmila would have been friends with her on FB all this time. By this time, I needed to get ready to go to office – fortunately, with some hope that I might have a few more leads. The frustrating part of all the searches is not when a match does not work – it is when you run out of leads. You are hopeless at that point of time.

In any case, called up Sharmila to check in with her for the morning and let her know that I was leaving for office. And casually asked if she knew a “Satabdi Roychoudhury” from her FB list well. She confirmed that she did and that they were classmates till her middle and high school. More out of habit than hope, I gave her a couple of descriptions and asked if they matched. To my utter surprise, she said that they matched. I was like WHAT??? All these days I was looking all over the world and simply forgot to ask my wife? Anyways, I was in a hurry and Sharmila said she would get me her phone number. I asked her to ask her friend if she remembered “Bachchu”-da. For that was my pet name. Like hers was …. you know what 🙂

The day was very busy with meetings and then dinner meeting. Finally at 10:30 at night, I came back to my hotel and found out that Sharmila and Satabdi had both sent me messages with her phone number. Very excitedly, I called her and immediately apologized for calling so late. She did not seem to mind.

“So, where is Raja”?

“Oh! he lives close to us”, she said.

“Where is Mithudi?”

“She lives close to us too”.

“Wow! How are your parents? Where are they?”

“Oh! they are here visiting me right now”.

“BTW, where is ‘here’”?

“Baltimore”!!

“WHAT????”

That is when I realized I was not only looking for her in all the wrong places but I was literally forty five minutes from where she was as I was talking to her!

It was a long call. We went from house to house in our old neighborhood and I updated her on as many of them as I have been able to trace. Talked to her mom for a long time. She matched my recollections – event for event – at every step. She remembered the exact day when I had seen her last. She even remembered when I mentioned how she had saved me from impending disaster at home after messing up my sweater (that had been newly-knit by my mom) while trying to retrieve a “cambis” (tennis) ball from the hedges by bringing out her knitting needles and fixing it!

In between, I called up Sharmila to give her a full update. And then called up my brother and sister to let them know. They were super excited. My sister wanted to talk to them then and there before she realized it was past midnight for us.

As a final twist, before going to bed, I logged into Facebook to send friend requests to Mithudi and Raja (I had found out their formal names from Satabdi). It is then that I realized that Mithudi knew a friend from my middle school too. I could not figure out the connection. A few messages with Jyoti later, I found out that my friend and Mithu-di were room mates in college!! Go figure!! We both talked about how kind their parents were. There is a chance – a small chance that Jyoti and I might be in Kolkata in Jan around the same time! Wouldn’t it be cool to visit Mr. and Mrs. Roychowdhury at the same time!!

It is such a small, small world!

Looking forward to coming back to this area so I can meet my friends from forty years back. I will miss uncle and aunt since they are headed to India soon – but like I said, I will fix that problem next time when I go to see my parents!!

23 October 2015

Another unique intersection point!

Little did I know as I sank into the luxury chair in John’s plush office that I will actually come up with another intersection point. This was a few months back. I had shown up after office in John’s renowned company offices to discuss some unrelated business and get some pointers around talent. John, being extremely well known in Atlanta circles, was, as he always is, tremendously helpful that evening.

“Tell me about your new company”, he asked.

“Oh! We are a big data and analytics company specializing in geospatial data….” and I proceeded to give a two minute version of what our company is.

“Where are you based out of”?

And I rattled off the large offices we have in Kentucky, Georgia, Florida, Wisconsin, Oregon…

“Oregon?”, he interrupted, “My sister lives there”.

“Where?”, I enquired. Half expecting him to say Portland.

Instead he said “Oh! it is a very small place. You would not know”.

“Try me”

“It is a small town called Corvallis”.

“I have a office there. With 50 or so people!!!”

You can only imagine his surprise. I was not sure whether he was more surprised by the fact that I knew exactly where Corvallis is or that there are actually 50 people in Corvallis. In any case, that evening as I walked away, I asked him to send me his sister’s contacts. And promised to visit her next time I would be in that part of the country.

Which I did. Yesterday. Over a cup of coffee.

And boy, am I glad!! Otherwise I would have missed another fascinating person with an incredible personal story. I don’t think I have ever met somebody who knew Bill Gates and Steve Jobs that well personally. In fact, Jean – that being her name – sold the first Apple computer that the retail store ComputerLand had. (Anybody remembers ComputerLand from the seventies and eighties? I think they shut down in the nineties). I was fascinated by her contribution to Open Source movement and her personal association with Ritchie (of the Kernighan and Ritchie fame). Eventually, she sold her start up in the Bay Area and settled down in the quiet pastures of Oregon. She actually lives 45 minutes away from Corvallis in the Coastal Mountains in a 92-people town called Alpine. She followed her passion and love for nature. She is deep into wines – in fact, we found some common connections we had in a few owners of wineries around the area that we both knew. 

We spend a lot of time discussing what would be some great places to retire in. I strongly pushed for the case of Costa Rica, Chile, Portugal and Bulgaria. Unfortunately, I had my meetings starting in office soon and so I had to take leave after an hour. I have to come back and finish off our discussions…

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23 October 2015

My first 94 year old friend!!

The drive from Corvallis to Monmouth last evening was a short one, but a very beautiful one. As I went up 99W thru the quaint towns amidst beautiful wineries and fruit orchards of Oregon with the sun setting behind the Coastal Mountains as a backdrop, my mind floated back to an early morning of an August day in 2007. That was the day I had met Lia Knower in our running group for the first time. Ever since, she and I have run together many times. I got to run with her husband Matt once and a few weeks back, you may recollect the story I wrote after running with her daughter Lynette. 

After wrapping up a hard week on the road, on a Thursday evening, my normal route would have been to drive for a couple of hours to Portland and check into a hotel by the airport to catch the first flight home the next day. But not yesterday. Because I had a very important meeting set up. I was going to make a new friend. A 94 year old friend!

After the run with Lynette was done, over a cup of Starbucks coffee, I had explained to Lynette how her mother had found out about my trips to Oregon from Facebook and how, I got to know that her dad was from Oregon and that her mom spent quite some time there. I also told her that I found out her 94 year old grandmom was still in Oregon. In a place quite near to where I go. Excitedly, I let her know that I was actually going to show up at her grandmom’s house one day and make friends with her.

That day was yesterday. Last week, when I was trying to get my co-ordinates settled down, I found out that coincidentally, Lia was also going to be with her mom. In fact she was right there outside the house flagging me down as I pulled my car in to her mom’s street. And soon, together with her mom, her sister and herself, I headed out to another town which had a nice Italian restaurant.

The evening, in short, was a blast.

At 94 years old, Lia’s mom is unbelievably sharp and active. (I picked up a couple of figs from the garden she tends to). She was full of interesting stories too. And very graceful. At least she laughed heartily at all my jokes!! In any case, i got to learn about the history of how her dad (that would be Lynette’s great-grandfather) – who was in the First World War – eventually came to US from a small island sandwiched between mainland Greece and mainland Turkey! She was excited to know that I will be in Greece in a couple of weeks’ time to attempt my first marathon race. She even taught me how to say “Good Morning” in Greek!

What was even more fun was to watch the two sisters – Lia and Marcia – getting caught up in the history and excitedly starting “Did you know tht….” and then they would realize that they were learning a bit more of their own history from each other!!! Reminded me of how my own brother and sister often go thru those moments when I am in India to visit my parents.

I thought we had barely gotten started when we were told that the restaurant was closing. I had no idea where the two hours went. Reluctantly, we all headed back. After dropping them at their house, I started the long drive back to Portland.

That was one of my best evenings in a long long time!!!

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14 September 2015

A different kind of local train passenger

You probably have heard me saying this often before – I am always struck by the difference in the attitude of people as they age between India and US. While generalization of any sort is fraught with danger – and I have certainly seen a few strong exceptions – but by and large, I tend to believe the following: compared to the country I live in (US), folks in the country where I was born and visit often (India), people, as they age tend to have a far less physically active life. And also seem to complain more. I would certainly put my parents in that category. But as I said, I run into exceptions too. I get inspired by those exceptions and that is why I write about them.

Such an encounter happened yesterday. I had a few hours left before I had to say bye to my parents and leave for the airport. I was aware that a gentleman that I wanted to meet for some time was going to be in Kalyani (small town where my parents live now) on that day. He is the father of a friend of mine in Atlanta – Nachiketa. I figured it would be good to go and say Hi to him. I was sure he would be thrilled to know that I live in the same place as his son does and we can talk about a few things. Also, my elder daughter and his youngest granddaughter are very close friends.

Before long, my brother and I were knocking on the door of what seemed to be the right address. There was no response. I pushed the door and it opened. I raised my voice to ask if anybody was inside. Soon, a very elderly gentleman came out. I introduced myself as his son’s friend from Atlanta and that I live in Kalyani too. Now, the last part was not correct at all but I was afraid that he would jump to all sorts of wrong conclusions when somebody comes unexpectedly from Atlanta saying that he knows his son. Eventually I corrected myself and let him know that my parents live in Kalyani but I personally have never done so.

In any case, I had bargained for half an hour of pleasantries – after all he was 86 years old and take leave of him. Turned out it went for over an hour and if I did not have a flight to catch, I could have sat for another hour. What had my jaw drop is that this gentleman – as I said 86 years old – takes the 5 o’clock local train every Sunday from Kolkata (where he lives) and comes to Kalyani where he has a house. He spends the day there and then next day goes to another town and teaches Post Graduate students in a college there. At 86 years old!! He travels in local trains (only people from Kolkata area will know what it is like to travel in crowded local trains)!! And teaches in a college!! I found out that he also spends Tuesdays and Fridays working at the National Library in Kolkata.

The Sundays that he spends in Kalyani – he tends to his large garden. He took us around his garden – with all sorts of flower plants, fruit trees and the like. It was an extensive set up he had. I asked him where did he get all this energy. He looked at me for some time and asked “What else would you expect one to do?”. That was the best answer ever. I was not sure I had an answer.

We went back inside from his garden for a cup of tea. He regaled me and my brother with stories of undivided India from the early twentieth century. (He was born in Bangladesh but moved to India). He had more stories about freedom fighters from those days than I had ever heard before. My brother and I had an absolutely fantastic time! Both of us agreed to meet him again – either in Kolkata or in Kalyani.

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14 September 2015

He might be a big time doctor now…

But to me he is the same old Atish Sarkar that I went to first grade with.
Woke up on Saturday morning in Durgapur with the exciting prospect that I would be able to see another first grade friend of mine – the twenty sixth one that I have dug up so far, if you are keeping count – after a very long time. We got separated after 1976 and that was almost forty years back. Not sure how, but a few years back, I was able to get his phone number and I was startled to find out that he remembered me immediately. I had made a promise to visit him some time in Raniganj. And Saturday was the day.

While it is never too late to meet your old friends, in one aspect I was too late. His dad passed away long time back. I owed him a lot of things but there was one I have been ever indebted to him. It was a seemingly innocuous act of getting me an application form from Narendrapur Ramakrishna Mission school and encouraging me to sit for the entrance test. My dad and I were already set on me going to a different school where I had a guaranteed admission. I did give the entrance exam in this other school and I did get in. And against my dad’s wishes then (there is a rather juicy story behind this one – but I will leave it for later), I went to this school. And to this day, my dad and I agree that was the best decision for me. It opened up a lot of future opportunities for me.

Unfortunately for me though, I never got a chance to say Thanks to his dad. I did narrate that story to his mom and expressed my gratitude for uncle’s encouragement. I was lucky that his mom was there that day. She was visiting him and I did not expect to see her at all. It was absolutely wonderful to sit with her and talk about some of the incidents from forty years back.

One of the amusing story was a routine Atish and I had every “tiffin” period – which was basically the recess time when we had our snacks and kicked around some “kodomphool” pretending them to be soccer balls. I had this blue “tiffin” box and my mom would give me bread, banana and a boiled egg every day. He had a silver colored one and I do not recollect what all he brought – but he sure always had a “lobongolotika” (which is one of the best sweets you could find in Bengal). He loved eggs and I loved lobongolotikas. So, the first act during every “tiffin” period would be to exchange those two items. Much later in life, I realized how that must have reinforced the wrong message to both our moms seeing we had finished up all our food in the box 🙂 We had a great laugh sitting at his house and ruminating over such small incidents in front of three generations of women in his life – his mom, his wife and his daughter!!

Before long, I realized that one morning was going to be too little to go thru all our stories. He needed to get back to work. We promised to sit together as five people again and finish up the rest of the stories some day soon!

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13 September 2015

Like I said….

As in Delhi, many of the middle school friends in Durgapur put a gathering together for the evening that I was there. A few more did not make it, however the get together was graced by the presence if some of the spouses.

The whole camaraderie thing has remained undiminished thru the decades although the subjects of discussion have become more age appropriate. For example, for the first thirty minutes we found ourselves talking about blood pressure, sugar level, knees hurting, annual physicals and such till somebody called a time out declaring “Hey! We have become our dads”!

We all agreed and moved on to more interesting topics like work, family, school and such. But mostly, we picked on Prodipto 🙂 BTW, the last time I had seen Jyotishwar was in 1983!!

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13 September 2015

Sometimes he was “Sir”. But mostly he was “Uncle”

I was heading into Durgapur from Kalyani when I had to run thru my list of To Dos or rather To Visit items for the day. Other than my in laws and my own uncle – who are Must See for me – the options are as wide as they can be. This is where I grew up, went to school till tenth grade and consequently knew a lot of folks from my past. Every time, I try to a meet a few folks – some long lost friends from yesteryears and some parents of my old friends. It used to be that I would go around meeting my friends but they started losing their parents at such a cadence that I have often prioritized meeting parents higher than friends in the hope that I have longer time left to meet my friends.

So, as I was running thru the options in my list, the first person I wondered about actually had a dual identity for me. He was the dad of a first grade friend of mine – Mousumi Roychowdhury – with whom I have kept in touch (mostly by phone) throughout the years. But he was also Dr. A.N. Roychowdhury – the math professor in our local engineering college. And he helped me a lot during the tough junior and senior high school years. All those calculus, trigonometry, algebra became much simpler because of the time he took to sit me down and help me get them nailed thru my thick head. There was a summer that I had come home from my residential high school and I would show up multiple times a week to get some pointers at his home.

I not only remember him for those great classes and his mild mannered style of carrying himself and his passion for the violin but also what used to happen after those classes. Since I had a special identity of not only being a student but also his daughter’s classmate, I would meander into the kitchen area after classes. And auntie (Mousumi’s mom) would sit me down, chat with me and insist that I partake of tea and some snacks and sweets. Which was my reason to meander into the kitchen area to begin with!!! She was kinder to me than I probably ever deserved.

I called up my friend in Singapore, got her dad’s address and couple of Google Maps maneuverings later, I was knocking at a house in City Center, Durgapur. Uncle (I would interchangeably call him Uncle and Sir – it is that duality of identity again) came out. He had no idea who was at his door. So, I gave him my name. He thought for a while and asked “Bappa Biltu-r bondhu”? (he asked me if I was the same Rajib Roy that was his daughter’s and another common friend’s friend). Everything fell in place in his mind once I answered in the affirmative!

A couple of minutes later I got to see Auntie again. Age has crept up on both of them. But for both of them, the same old smile and hospitality and kindness has not left them. I stayed back for more time than I had planned. I was overwhelmed by their welcome as well felt extremely great to have seen them again. About 30 years later. I do not know about them but I absolutely had the best time of my life with them.

In fact, I missed them so much after leaving them that I made it a point to call them before boarding my flight to start my long journey back home. He asked me to Skype and email and phone whenever I could. I got to put that on my priority list when I get back home.

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10 September 2015

Bose Kakima!!! That brought back a lot of memories.

My best friend during middle and high school days was Avijit Bose. We have always kept up with each other and although geographically we kept getting separated – till we could not be separated any further – he is in Australia and I in US – we could not get ourselves even in the same hemisphere latitudinally or longitudinally – he is still the friend that I talk to most.

We became best friends primarily because we were nothing like each other. He was a funny, street smart person, I was socially awkward and frequently did not know how to end a joke. He was athletic. I was anything but. He wasn’t the biggest fan of math but loved biology and veered towards the medical line. I loved math and therefore never understood a subject like biology where apparently division means multiplication and consequently went the engineering route.

But we spent a lot of time together. And in each other’s house. My parents were particularly fond of Avijit. As was his parents of me. I was always a special guest at his house. Which left me in the precarious position of having to balance their trust in me and also supporting my best friend in all his mischievous misadventures that his parents would surely frown upon if they got to know of them. And that was the other difference between us – he was the mischievous one and I was the goody goody boy then!! (Not any more 🙂 )

I have a lot of memories that go back to those days about his mom and dad. His dad let me accompany him on the stage at a flute concert once (he was an accomplished flutist). His mom would make special snacks for me. She would even bribe me to see if I would spill the beans of any girls in his life. I would feign total innocence. It worked well with the goody goody boy image 🙂

His mom once took me to visit her sisters and her brother about 150 km away from where we lived. I continued to keep in touch with those relatives of Avijit for many years after that. Even when we were geographically separated, I used to write letters religiously to both him and his mom.

Over the years though it became more and more infrequent to see her. I would get updates but would see her less so. The wake up call came for me when, a few months back, I heard about Avijit’s dad passing away. You have no idea how much I have kicked myself for not getting to see him once before he died or even for that matter, simply calling him up. He would always encourage me to study hard and thanked me for being a good influence on his son (I never claimed it, but he thought so).

Anyways, I had told Avijit this year that I will be going to see his mom. And there I was today – after fighting the terrible crowd of Kolkata suburbs for two and a half hours just to navigate about 40 miles. She was certainly frail of health. She recently had a nasty fall and her locomotion is severely compromised. Add to that a host of other physical ailments. But you have to give it to her in terms of mental courage and strength. She refuses to accept help – does everything herself as much as she can and I never saw once losing that beautiful smile I remember her for.

It was bliss to sit with her and just be that middle school boy again! I have to go back and spend more time with her again soon!!!

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9 September 2015

Finally got to meet that person!!

Remember the story I had written in June, how a friend – Shirshendu – that I had heard about for a long time but had only met for the first time in January, that too in Dubai – had shown up at my dad’s place with another classmate of mine? Do you remember how my parents chuckled at his shaved head and was relieved to find out that I was not the only person sticking out? And how they never breathed a word about the fact that he had to shave his head because he had just lost his dad? And that is why he was visiting Kalyani? And he showed up to my parents’ house just to say Hi and spend some time with them?

Well you might remember also from another prior story when I first met Shirshendu that I found out he had gone to Dubai to sell books and then he worked himself up to be a top executive in a large construction company.

I knew exactly what to do when I stepped out my dad’s house this evening. I had to go meet Shirshendu’s mom. There is a song in Hindi that goes “jiski rachna itni sundar, woh kitna sundar hoga”. Which means, “If the creation is so beautiful, I wonder how beautiful the creator must be”! Google maps on my iPhone, accompanied by my sister and brother in law, I hit the road. For once Google maps met its match. The house numbering system in Kalyani was way too confusing for Google. I would not blame it. B-3/172 is next to B-3/18. But B-3/168 is not even within half a mile of B-3/172. Had to make a few phone calls to Shirshendu to get ourselves straightened out.

His mom is an amazing person. She reminded me a lot of Suparna’s dad (remember my friend whose mom has an advanced stage of Alzheimers but her eighty old dad was the most cheerful and inspiring person I had ever met?). In spite of all the recent difficulties she has gone thru – and she now lives by herself and does not go out for walks any more due to her knees – we did not hear her complain about one single thing during the whole hour we were there. I really wish I had taken my dad and mom with me 🙂

People say you are as old as you think you are. You have to see her to realize that physical ability and even life tragedies are but mere obstacles one needs to get past – not hobbled by. At the age of sixty five – when most people are thinking about the sunset years, she started learning recitation. And soon started performing on TV. In fact, right now, she is getting ready for an interview to be held in a nearby city.

She has a great group of friends, still exercises and does Yoga daily and even had toyed with the idea of whether she should learn how to sing. Now there is a person after my heart. Never say it is too late. Never follow the crowd. It is one life you will live. Live it on your terms.

I think I found out the answer to that Hindi song this evening!!

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