I have been preparing for a few days for my next trip to India to see my dad. Since this time I have a detour to another city (some work related stuff), I have been making a list of people I know in that city to see if I can create some more intersection points. It was in that context, I called up Aniruddha Sen in India. My classmate from early school days. In fact, we were in the same classroom in ninth grade (section B). I have not seen him in over 32 years, although I have talked to him – mostly on his birthdays.

I called him up hoping to see him for a few minutes while I would be in his city. The phone just was dead on the other end. Fearful that he has changed his number, I shot him an email and just let him know that I will be in his city for a few hours and should all stars align, it would be great if I could see him for a few minutes.

An email came back the next day essentially letting me know that the reason I could not get thru was that he was in flight. Flying to my city Atlanta!! He would be here for a few hours, he let me know – although busy till 9:30PM for work. 32 years versus staying up late – it was not even a question in my mind.

At 9:30 PM on this Tuesday, I finally met – after many many years – the guy with whom I sat in the same room six hours a day for days together!!! Getting to see Aniruddha Sen was a reward unto itself. Getting to know how well he and his family was doing was simply unbelievable!!

The year was 1989. Campus interviews were going on in full swing. Those days, if you were in my college and specialized in the stream I did, you almost automatically came to the USA for higher studies. Except that, I did not care for higher studies in my stream. It was a tough peer pressure to fight those days. I was fresh off a discussion with my dad and uncle on a long distance trunk call who were urging me to go to the USA. When I demanded to know what was in it for them – since I did not see myself as the guy who would flourish in that stream doing research – my uncle explained to me that it was not supposed to be all about me. That I needed to realize if I could go to the USA and establish myself, at least one generation of our extended family would acquire a safety net of financial stability.

I was not ready for any responsibility. I just wanted to be who I was. Against that backdrop, the next day, this gentleman- the HR head in a company called COSL, at the end of the interview had a simple question – “Convince me that if you get a job with us, you will join us instead of going to the USA”. As irritated as I was (not because of the question itself – but because of the backdrop of previous day’s discussions), I kept my calm – as much as a 22 year old can probably keep his calm and explained my priorities – get a MBA degree in India, get a job, go to USA to get a Masters degree. So, he was not on the top of my list but he was certainly above me going to the USA.

He did offer me a job. I did get a chance to get a MBA degree in India. So, I never joined his company then. But I never forgot him. Or his company. A year later, in my MBA school campus, that company came seeking summer interns. I showed up. Sure enough, he was there. Although he did not recognize me. Right at the beginning, I explained our previous encounter. He just got up, told me there was no need for an interview, gave me the internship and stepped out to have a smoke.

I went back to that company a year later for my full time job. COSL eventually transferred me to its mothership – Citibank USA. Much later, I was able to get to myself to a reasonable position where I was able to somewhat give some financial security to my extended family. Unfortunately, my uncle never lived long enough to see that I did fulfill his dream. Except it was done on my terms.

Separated by tens of thousands of miles with no such thing as Facebook, cellphone or Whatsapp, I never got a chance to hook up with that gentleman who made such a big difference to me during that interview when I was so impressionable.

Till this Sunday!! Found out – thanks to Facebook, cellphone and WhatsApp that he was in town to drop his daughter at Emory. Had a great time meeting him and his family.

Mr. Pradeep Mukherjee, as I mentioned this Sunday, thank you so much for the difference you have made to my life – without probably every realizing so!! I hope to emulate your example and do the same to others some day!

“Papa Roy! We have heard about your blog and Facebook posts!!” – that was how I was greeted by Natasha’s friends as I entered her dorm to pick her up and fly back to Atlanta after a five week summer course in NorthWestern School outside Chicago. I was, of course, taken a little aback. But soon I figured out that in my absence, Natasha had pretty much had her friends think of me as nothing if not a profuse blogger/Facebook poster. Even her instructors mentioned that they had heard about my Facebook posts. I mildly protested at times. The teachers were a little more generous. “We think your daughter got her flair for writing from you. We hope she will pursue her dream of studying Journalism. How do you come up with your topics?”. I explained that I actually do not write any stories or abstract articles. I just write down what happens to me in my daily life. And that since I travel a lot I get a chance to meet a lot of people and write about them.

By the way, I also found out that Natasha had warned her friends severely that they were bound to get Facebook friend requests from me and they were to accept them only at the pain of death!

In any case, soon lunch time rolled in and many of the parents and students went to the school cafeteria to have lunch. I went there with Natasha and her room mate and as we settled down at the table, Natasha said “Wait, Dad! I want to introduce you to Nika”. Turns out Nayanika – commonly referred to as Nika – had become big friends of Natasha and her room mate and that she wanted to meet me. In a few minutes she came in with somebody who I could only surmise to be Nika and her dad. All of us sat down for lunch. The girls being girls and this being their last day, they would often jump up from their table and go excitedly chat with some other friends.

During one such episode, Nika’s dad and I were left by ourselves at the table. We started talking to each other and soon the following conversation happened…

Me: “I understand you folks are leaving for India tomorrow?”
He: “Yes, we are going to visit my parents in Chandigarh and in laws in Delhi”.
Me: “You grew up in Chandigarh?”
He: “Not really – I spent most of my childhood years in Kolkata”.
Me: “Where in Kolkata?”
He: “A small suburb called Chandannagore”.
Me: “I see. And what was your dad doing in Chandannagore?”
He: “He worked in a jute mill”.
Me: “Really? Which one?”
He: “Do you know that area? It was called Anglo Indian Jute Mill”.
I did some quick mental math in my mind and asked “Was Mr. Saxena the general manager then?”.
You could see the surprise in his face.
He: “How do you know him?”
I was sure I was on to something. I asked “Did you know his son Navin?”
He – very very surprised – “They were our next door neighbor”.
Me: “Well, Navin and I went to junior and senior years in high school together!!!!”
He: “In Narendrapur?”
Me: “In Narendrapur!”
He: “I have played many an evening with him and his brother!!”.
Me: “Guess what? In 1985, I have been to his house. The first time I ever entered a swimming pool or saw a tennis ground was in your club!! For all you know I have seen you before”.
He: “Are you in touch with him?”
Me: “Sure! I had dinner with him and his family in Portland a few months back”.

Meanwhile, the kids were back and they were desperately trying to compute that these two gentlemen, as unlikely as it seemed might actually have seen each other in 1985 and now in 2015 have been brought together again thru fate and their daughters!! Natasha, of course had the usual “See? What did I tell you? This is what he does!”.

Since that is what I do, I thought it might be worth doing some more. Now that I had figured out some connection with Gaurav (Nika’s dad), I tried on her mom’s side.

Me: “Where is your wife from? Did she grow up in Delhi?”
He: “Actually, she grew up in a place not too far from Kolkata. It is a steel town called Durgapur”.
Me: “Get out of here”
He: “Why? You know somebody there too?”
Me: “My family is from there. I grew up there. What is her name?”
He: “Anu. Her full name is Anupama. Anupama Sharon”
It was my turn to drop the jaw! I looked at Nika and could only exclaim “You are Anupama’s daughter?”
You could see the excitement in her eyes “Yes. Do you know her too?”
Me: “Everybody knows your mom in Durgapur. She was a very talented girl in our age group”.
I turned to Gaurav and said “ Anupama was a couple of years younger to me. But do mention my name to her brother Amit. We all went to the same school till tenth grade. Your wife and my wife grow up literally a stone’s throw away from each other!!”

By this time, we were all shaking our heads in disbelief!
Natasha’s only comment was “This is unreal”.
And her roommate – who is a Korean from California had the best question ever – “India is not that small, right?”.
We all laughed out aloud.

How unreal is this really? A girl I knew from my hometown that I stayed till 1983 got married to somebody next door to my very close friend in a residential school from 1983-1985 (and very possibly we have been seen each other) and had a daughter who happened to be my daughter’s dorm mate for five weeks in a place just about half a world and over a quarter decade away? And all that tapestry was unraveled over a lunch table only because one of those daughters wanted to introduce her dad to her friend!!

That is absolutely as unreal as it gets. Even by my standards!!!

After all this, if any one of you dare complain that I blog or Facebook too much, you have another thing coming 🙂

The prospect of a red eye flight from West Coast to Atlanta is not an appetizing one – certainly far less so on a Friday night. You land up home on a Saturday morning after having lost the Friday evening and totally groggy to do anything for most of Saturday anyways. The flight was to start from Portland at 10:30 pm. I was still with my team at a restaurant rehashing the week’s events by the time it was 8:30 PM. Eventually, I was able to get myself out of the meeting around 8:45 PM. That is when all my troubles started.

First, I had to find where my parking lot was. I knew the intersection street names. While Google maps are great for driving, I am sure you have realized that for walking it is very unhelpful for the first few minutes. It takes about three minutes of walking to realize that you are headed the wrong way. And that is what happened to me. Eventually, I turned around and eventually got to the parking lot.

Next, for the life of me, I could not remember which floor I had parked in. I was in a big hurry coming back from Corvallis and parked there while being on a call and obviously forgot the basic tenets of parking in a new spot. I was already pushing 9 PM when I kept going round and round the parking lot pressing my key till on the fourth floor, a docile looking Camry condescended to blink its tail lights.

Of course, I then high tailed for all I was worth. I did the mental math – I would reach the airport by 9:25, check in my suitcase with one hour in hand and scrape thru security to get to my gate. I could have shaved some minutes by not checking in my luggage but while I was grateful I was in the first class section, regrettably, I was in a bulkhead seat. Having luggage is a bother since you cannot put anything under your seat.

I was almost tracking to my plans. I looked up in my rear view mirror just as I was going to take the exit for the airport and saw the dreaded blue and white lights flashing right behind me. Starting to lose all hope of catching my flight I pulled over. The cop came and asked me if I knew why he had pulled me over. I told him that I was willing to go on a limb and guess that I was speeding. He asked me why. I told him why. I figured I am going to be set back by 10 minutes if I played this straight. He did take 10 minutes but came back and told me that he was going to let me go. I am not sure what I had done to deserve that, but I was not willing to push him back on that.

9:35 PM and I pulled into the rental car return center. I was going to drop the car and run to the airport. A young lady walked up and I told her that I was in a big hurry and that I would pick up the receipt online. It is then when she asked me “what happened to the side of the car?”. I was like “what do you mean?”. I walked over to the passenger side – and sure enough there was a big gash on the side of the car. Either I had sideswiped a car or somebody else had. She asked me if I knew what could have done that. I ran thru all the events that happened that day in my mind and for the life of me could not remember ever coming close enough to a car to scratch it. She asked the next logical question – “Was it there when you took it?” I told her very truthfully that I had never checked. I also mentioned that I was in a deathly hurry – so enquires what would be the most time efficient way of dealing with it.

She gave me a form and asked me to fill one box. I asked about rest of the form – she said she would take care of it. That was awfully nice. That was second nice person in a matter of minutes. As I filled up the box, I asked her – “Where is that accent from?”. “Russia”, she said. “Really, what is your story?”. And then 15 minutes later I found out that she had a fascinating history. She came to USA escaping from Russia under trying circumstances. She never went past high school since her parents could not afford it here. She is working now to save money to go to school. I asked her what she wanted to do. She said that she was not sure but would like to stay in Oregon. I gave her my business card. I told her if she ever went to OSU, to write to me. We have an office in Corvallis and I am sure she could try for an intern job if her studies had anything to do with what we do. That way she would not be as much of a burden for her parents.

I was really thrilled to see another person coming from a different country to USA like I did and trying to find a footing under her. That is the good news. The bad news? It was 9:50 already. I ran to the airport. Went straight to the counter and went to the nearest kiosk to print a boarding pass before I could dump my suitcase. The problem was that I had challenges with my boarding pass. It had something to do with the fact I change my flight plans that morning. A very elderly lady with a name tag “Judi” came and asked me if she could help me. One glance at her and I was sure she was retired. I politely told her that I needed to see an agent. She promptly took me to one who helped me thru. It was 10 PM. 30 minutes to flight taking off. 20 minutes to gate closing.

I was getting ready to run to the security when I paused for a second. I walked back to that lady who had helped me. I asked her “How long have you been working with Delta?”. “Three months”, she said! Three months???? I was wondering why would somebody switch jobs at an age that looked very near to retirement. She saw the surprise in my face and eased me into it – “Well, I work here as a summer term employee”. “Why?”, I asked. “Well, Delta gives flight benefits. This way, if there is a seat on a plane, I can see places I have not seen”. I was stunned. I did not know that Delta actually had this program. Basically if you are a senior citizen, you can work as an ambassador or customer assistance and you get some flight benefits. What a wonderful gesture. But by now I was 20 minutes from flight. I explained my predicament to Judi and bid good bye.

The good news is that I have a Pre-Check. So, TSA security takes me a couple of minutes at best. I figured I would reach 15 minutes before the flight. That is a buffer of 5 minutes. Predictably, I screened thru TSA easy. There was nobody there. But there were two TSA ladies poring over the X-ray picture of my bag. I was getting amused and frustrated. I was on the razor’s edge timewise. But I was amused that anybody would flag a bag that literally had only papers and an iPad. Finally a gentleman came and rubbed that bomb-detecting paper on my bag. I complained to him that I am going to miss my flight and that I would like to see what they saw that triggered my bag to be checked. He frankly told me – “Well, one of them is a trainee. She pressed the wrong button, I am sure”. Arrrghhh!! But he did do a quick check and let me go.

10 minutes to go. I was running down the airport hoping against hopes that there were no standby passengers that would take my seat. Finally, I appeared in front of my gate with seven minutes to go. There was nobody there except the gate lady. She seemed to be totally unperturbed. “Mr. Roy, I presume”, she asked. “Indeed, ma’m. Please tell me you have not given my seat away.”, I implored. “Well, you are supposed to be here ten minutes before flight”. “I know”, I said completely losing hope.

“That’s okay. You are good. One of our hospitality ambassadors phoned us a little while back letting us know that a nice young gentleman will be a little late”.

I could have literally dropped on the floor. Judi had called them ahead!!!!

It was a slow walk thru the vestibule to my seat – all the time thinking how people you least think of, sometimes is the biggest help that makes all the difference. I reminded myself again to stop, be nice and talk to strangers whenever I can.

If you are ever in Portland airport, see if you can say Hi to Alin (frankly, I am not sure of the spelling – I am going by how she pronounced her name) at Hertz or Judi at Delta. Apparently, what goes around, comes around!!

I was sleepily (no Statbucks coffee due to the queue 🙂 ) walking around Salt Lake City airport waiting for boarding to start when I noticed this gentleman walking towards me. Evidently he had spotted me from a distance!!

That’s how I ran into good old Vineet Kalra early this morning! We had worked together fifteen years back and even lived not too far off when we were in Dallas.

The picture was taken in Portland airport. Turns out both of us were on the same flight…

This has been a tough week for my and my team mates at work. I personally have been bouncing off from airport to airport, city to city, meetings to meetings. Yet, among those strenuous times, I always seem to bump into some memorable moments.

I was in Houston for a quick meeting. I needed to get myself to the northwest as soon as possible. So, as you can imagine, it was not very amusing for me when United let me know that my flight was delayed over three hours. I would reach Portland around three in the morning – six o’clock for me by Atlanta time. I would be in no shape to have any meaningful discussions. Long story short, I changed my plans to head out to Salt Lake City, sleep there for a few hours and then head out to Portland.

Meanwhile in Houston, that meant I had a little time in hand. I knew exactly where to go. You see, I was aware that my friend from elementary school – first grade to fourth grade – who is a renowned doctor in London (yeah yeah yeah, you have a legitimate question – “all your friends seem to have made something about themselves, what happened to you Rajib?”, can we move on, now? ) also is deep into Bengali cultural stuff and was in Houston for the North American Bengali something (it is called NABC) to perform in a drama. She is one of those from my class who was always blessed with multiple talents. This, by the way, is an event where all the Bengalis from all over North America swoop down for a couple of days. To be able to get any stage time, you have to be top notch. To come all the way from London to perform, you have to be really passionate. And she is both.

A couple of wrong addresses later, I found myself sitting at a lobby of a hotel near the airport. Eventually Mausumi (I just realized, I had never mentioned her name) showed up too. Beautiful and graceful as ever, she picked up our conversations from almost where we had left it last. Presently, her husband and son (I have met them before) showed up too. It was such a great fortune for me to see the Basu family again.

At some point, she mentioned that they have another couple traveling with them. I am always up for making new friends. So, I mentioned I would love to meet them. Eventually, a lovely couple strolled in. And Mausumi introduced me to the gentleman as “Ani” and his wife who has the same name as my friend. As socially awkward as I am, I first started talking to the lady thinking she was Masumi’s friend’s daughter 🙁 We exchanged pleasantries. But I was distracted. My mind was racing – “He is from Birmingham – the UK version, not the Alabama version – and his name is Ani. How do I know him?”. Then he took his hat off. And I blurted out “Aniruddha-da na?” (are you not Aniruddha?).

As difficult as it might be for you to believe, this guy and I went in the same bus to middle and part of high school together. In fact, he got up in the bus from the stop right after my stop. He was one year senior to me but I remember every detail of him – including one day the bus going in front of his house like every other day but he was just standing at the gate of his house. He had just recovered from some ailment (was it jaundice???) and he was still not cleared to go to school.

As coincidences go, after he had left that home, my parents move to a home literally two houses beyond his and lived there for seventeen years!! Last I saw him was in 1982. And today he was the “a friend of ours I would like you to meet”, as Mausumi put it.

What is the chance I get to see my elementary school friend and my senior and bus-mate from middle school – all in India – at the same time? Far from their country, UK!! In a country called USA about which we had pretty much zero knowledge when we got to know each other first?

You can only imagine how many old friends we caught up on!!! All this happened in 40 minutes. I had to get to the airport soon. What a memorable 40 minutes!! Sometimes I wonder why can’t these moments be hours and hours. And then I remind myself that my other alternate was to have 0 minutes. I am good.

Here I am – at Salt Lake City airport, near midnight local time, waiting for my hotel shuttle to show up. But I have all the time in the world now!!!