31 December 2017

Sharing a lighter moment after 40 years!!

Once in a while, I pick up some mild compliments about my writing style. Mostly undeserved, I must hasten to add. That said, if there are two teachers I lay most of the credit for my writing style, it would be Mrs. Debjani Biswas (ninth and tenth grade English teacher) and Sir Kelvin Donegan (my fifth grade English teacher). I was lucky enough to meet Mrs. Biswas this year in Pune.

The search for Sir Donegan was much tougher. Most of the teachers in school – in fact all of them, I would say – did not have the faintest idea about his whereabouts. Worse, I had heard rumors that Sir Donegan was no more. Because of that rumor, my intensity to search for him had reduced too.

Earlier this year, I found somebody who said that she goes to the same church as Mrs. Donegan every Sunday. And she confirmed that the news about his death was largely exaggerated. A few weeks later, I had a phone number in my hand.

As is my wont, I opened with the breaker-of-all-ices “You won’t know me sir….”.
He duly confirmed that!!

I quickly established my credentials by giving him some of the details from 1977.
If his words were to be believed, he was beyond delight to hear from one of his old students. Apparently, I am the only student from yesteryears that he has had a chance to talk to in over 30 years.

Turned out Sir Donegan left school and embarked on a completely different career in the merchant navy. Which meant, he was always out of the country. Eventually, he went back to his first passion in life – growing plants! He is into hydroponics and lives near the farm in Himachal Pradesh (1250 miles / 2000 km away from our school).

The most encouraging news I had from him that day was that he still visited his old house in Durgapur every year during Christmas / New Years time. You can do the math now… went to pick up my in-laws… thoroughly delayed on the highways… there was still some time to be squeezed out to see Sir Donegan!! Last time I talked to him? 1977! 40 years back!!

To say I had a great time would be a gross underestimation of the exhilaration I had upon seeing him. He had a great influence on me and most of the students. (I had written about him on a blogpost dated Oct 30 this year while discussing the controversy around the word “stoppage” – in case you wanted to look it up in my blog).

I updated him on all the teachers from school, learnt a lot about hydroponics and also the adventures he had in his life while traveling the world with the merchant navy.

The facial expressions should give you a good idea about the fun that was had!!

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31 December 2017

Another moment created for the kids!!

Most who have been lucky enough to grow up with grandparents around them will vouch for their undeniable influence – especially in the early stages of childhood. While the advent of modern economic growth started breaking up joint families in India, kids – in most of the cases – maintained reasonable access to their grandparents.

I was lucky to see mine every year. I had only three of them. My dad lost his dad at his tender age of two and a half. My recollection of my grandparents is still of their incredible kindness and generosity towards us. It was as if, as grandchildren, there was no demand too steep and there was no infraction that were punishable in the least bit.

They were our alibi when we were in trouble with our parents, our go-to when we got scared of our parents, our source for funding when our parents won’t buy us a knick knack and our never ending well of stories.

Nikita and Natasha, having been born in the USA do not have that easy an access to their grandparents in India. There was a time we used to come every year to maintain the routine I had with my grandparents. Then that stopped as they grew up and their life got taken over by…. well, life!

You can only imagine how excited I was that this time when both of them expressed the desire to visit their grandparents. One of the moments I was hoping to create – and that is something that had happened only once in my life time for myself – was to see if I can put both them with both side grandparents together under a roof for a day.

That explains the tiring trip to Durgapur and back (a total of 12 hours of driving – we got stuck in a couple of nasty traffic gnarls on the highway) to get Sharmila’s parents. And then after staying over in Kolkata for the night, we were all in Kalyani at my parents’ place!

The smile on the faces pretty much captures it all!

I hope the kids will retain some spotty memories of this day somewhere in their subconscious long after many of us are gone…

P.S. My dad was thrilled to talk to somebody who is from his old city Durgapur and he had a lot of questions around how the city has fared ever since he left!

29 December 2017

This could be injurious to his brain!!

I was half expecting this.

My dad, trying to fight back his brains getting scrambled after the stroke, had a hard jolt trying to understand what happened to Natasha’s hair. Tasha, had dyed her hair blonde some time back. Over the last few months as the hair has grown, her strands are natural dark (from the root side) and then after about half length starts becoming blonde.

My dad’s relatively low exposure of dyeing hair entirely comprises of making the hair look dark again (from grey) but never from dark to any thing else.

As you see in the picture, he held her hair in his fingers for quite some time trying to investigate what was going on. He asked quite a few questions – much to Tasha’s merriment – and then gave up trying to understand it!!

28 December 2017

The great uniter!

Usually, at least in our house, the iPhone is a constant source of irritation when it comes to interpersonal interactions. “Get your nose off the screen”, “Keep your phone down while eating”, “Stop posting those unflattering pictures of mine” 🙂 are part of the day to day vernacular when the four of us are around.

That same mighty piece of electronics has been a hero, bar none, to my parents, the last couple of days.

Natasha has kept up with her word to be with the grandparents. Every day, in Kalyani, she has been quietly sitting around my dad or mom. When everybody else is around, she has been watching all the interactions and when others leave, she has been trying to interact with my parents.

The big challenge is of course, language. As was famously said before, her grandparents and she has been separated by a common language. They speak their own versions of English. If my parents speak at a struggled pace, Natasha’s speeds thru sentences like there is not going to be a tomorrow.

But I have to say, I was superbly impressed how she and the grandparents persisted thru their communication challenges. The lowest common denominator has been the iPhone. My dad has always been a biggest fan of Natasha’s written English. He makes me bring her newspaper publications every time. But he has never understood what an online newspaper is. Once, he came dangerously close to concluding that the newspaper man delivers a computer to every home each morning in America!

Unknowingly though, he experienced it yesterday. Trying to figure out how to keep him engaged, Natasha had an idea! She took her iPhone out, weaved thru the slow speed data connections in Kalyani and made him read some of her online publications. Then she held the phone up for him patiently, as he read each line!

At that point, to give them some time, I left the room. When I came back, Natasha was holding court with her grandmom. My mother is not into written articles. From what I could overhear, Natasha was taking her thru all the pictures in her phone and introducing all her friends!

“This is Avery”, she was explaining.
“O Eta aay-bh-aari”, my mom acknowledged butchering the name’s pronunciation.
“Yes”, Natasha accepted.

I left the room again! The girl has truly grown up!!

The iPhone, unwittingly, was the great uniter yesterday!

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27 December 2017

He has been preparing for this visit from his grandkids

The big surprise we got when we walked into my dad’s house is how much he has improved. If you recollect from my pictures from end of October, he was in a pretty bad shape. He could not stay up in his bed without being surrounded by supporting pillows and two attendants. It used to take two of us just to get him off his bed into his wheelchair.

In under sixty days, he has willed himself into almost the impossible. During my daily calls with mom, she did not accurately convey how much he has improved. Apparently, he has been preparing for this day when he was going to be surrounded by all five of his grandkids!

A few weeks back, he could not even realize that his paralyzed right arm had gotten entangled under his body. Today, he tried playing ball with his grandkids. It took all his might to get the arm up (notice the grimace on his face) but lift it he did and even did a fair job of throwing it out of spitting distance.

The greatest surprise was he getting up from the bed while holding on to the walker (needed a little help here) and then taking baby steps all by himself. He labored for about ten minutes but did eventually make it to the other room and sat down there.

That green cap on his head? There are always risks of trying out something new. A few days back, he was so impatient with his progress that he tried to get up and walk by himself without any help (mom and attendant were both sleeping). Promptly fell down and banged his head. Very very thankfully, he got away with a few stitches only. It could have been far worse.

As a last point, during my previous trip, I had written about the pains the caretaker (in this case my mom) has to take when a family member becomes incapacitated . Notice in the picture where he is taking baby steps how she is half a step behind him with a chair in hand absolutely ready in case he falls down again!!!

25 December 2017

This happened on Christmas Day a couple of years back. It is still very funny!!

Excerpt from 2015 Dec 25th blog entry:

Awww!! It broke her heart to learn that Santa Claus is not real 🙁

I am not talking about my daughters. I am not talking of any of my nieces either. This is my seventy year old mom in India. During our early morning ritual – a phone call – today, she started arguing with me about Santa Claus. Much as I tried to explain to her that he is an imaginary character that parents tell their kids to deflect who got all the gifts, she steadfastly stood her ground that I had no idea what I was talking about. She felt I was getting confused because I forgot his real name – Nicholas!

“Ami bortoman-e porechhi onar asol naam Nikolas”. Apparently, a local Bengali newspaper is a lot more reliable source of information than her son of fifty summers. Not to mention half the stuff those local newspapers publish clearly have been picked from books found in the local library section visibly marked “Fiction”.

What absolutely took the cake – I mean literally – is when I had to tell her that cakes are not that big a thing during Christmas here. As an aside, anybody who has grown up around the parts of the country I did in India, exchanging Christmas cards and eating cake were the big highlights of any Christmas day. I come from a state where 30% of the population are Muslims and most of the rest Hindus. I grew up in a Christian school till tenth grade. Unlike the deep division in thoughts that I get exposed to today along the religious lines, life then, was all about celebrating all the religious festivals – regardless of which religion. Visiting the festively lit up parts of the neighborhood where Christians lived, buying Christmas cards and sending them to everybody and eating a whole lot of Christmas cakes was what Christmas always meant to us. Sometimes we would visit the well decorated local churches too.

But eating cake was a must. Against that backdrop, you can imagine the jaw dropping revelation that my mom was trying to process when I told her that cake is not that big a deal here. That was sacrilege to her. She finally but slowly gave her verdict which was basically suggesting that Christmas is really a British thing. Americans have not learnt about authentic Christmas yet 🙂

But for the mute button on the phone, I could have been in big trouble today. 🙂

She did agree on one thing before we parted – “Oi debdarur moto gachhta – ki jeno?” (referring to an indigenous coniferous looking tree). “Christmas tree”, I replied.

“Yes, Yes, Christmas tree… Christmas tree… I forgot”, she mused.
Score one for her fifty year old son!!! Take that “Bortoman”

24 December 2017

A memorable statement from one of my hospice friends

Spending time with folks who are in the last short strokes of life sometimes can be very funny, sometimes very educational and sometimes outright heart-tugging. If not anything else, watching the compassion that the patients show to each other and the employees there show to the patients, is singularly educational.

I had a memorable moment day before yesterday. First let me set the context. One of my patients – a octogenarian lady – is more or less physically functional – however her short term memory is pretty much non-existent. She does move around in a wheel chair but she is able to move herself.

She has three kids but I am under strict instructions not to bring the topic of two daughters up unless she happened to mention it and even then I am to just acknowledge and move on. There is a particularly painful history she has with her daughters but let me spare you of that.

The son, on the other hand, is a completely different story. It was her son, as I understand, who moved her from a pretty bad situation and put her in the hospice that is very close to her house. He visits her often with his wife and kids and takes her to their place once a month. She absolutely lights up whenever anybody talks about her son.

My last visit this year to any hospice was this Friday and she was my last hospice friend that I had to visit. I was expecting a 20 minute experience. Turns out, we talked for nearly an hour. She was in a very good mood.

So, you ask yourself – what can you possibly talk for an hour with a stranger? First, you will be surprised how people want to tell their story if you let them. In this case, I did not have to bother about that either. She is so devoid of short term memory that an hour of conversation is pretty much twelve re-runs of the same five minute conversation.

I must have answered her standard questions about my family, my daughters, where I work and so on a clear ten times or more. Similarly, she made sure I had heard about ten times about her grandchildren, their ages, her original place of birth and such other things.

To break the monotony, at times, I would press further on the topic of her son – since I knew she is very proud of her.

“Your son, Mrs Valerie, is a gem of a guy”. (names changed to protect piracy)
“He is. He is an absolutely great son. I am very proud of him.”
“As you should be. You should be also proud of yourself how you raised him.”
“Thank you. I had friends help me.”

I was not sure how to avoid broaching another sensitive topic – her husband. So, I just smiled and was wondering what to ask next when she dove into the topic herself.

“My husband left me after my son was born. I needed my friends to help me”.
“I am sorry to hear that. But I am sure glad your friends were around.” Trying to veer away from her husband, I continued “You chose some real great friends”.

She was not to be deterred. “My husband ran away with a floozie”.

Okay, I do not know how you would react, but I was stumped. At that point I was hoping that she will ask me again the same questions about me that I had already answered for a few times.

“Did you re-marry?”
“No”
“So, you raised the kids all by yourself?”
“My husband left us. I had no choice. But I had friends help me.”

“I have to say this, Mrs. Valerie. I am very proud of you and what you have done. I think I have a lot to learn”
“Why, thank you!”
“They say that a great mother raises a great son”
“That is not true”
“That is not true?”, I asked somewhat confused.
“No. A great mother raises not just a great son. A great mother raises a great father”.

It took me a minute or two to realize what she was trying to say. Then it dawned on me. Her pride in her son was not how he has treated her – but how he has treated his own kids. It is not the son in him but the father in him that she feels so proud of.

She immediately interrupted my thoughts with the same old “How many kids do you have?”, “Are you retired?”…

On the drive back from my last hospice visit of the year, I could not help think of a young lady with three kids suddenly deserted by her husband. Somehow, somewhere, she picked up her broken pieces of life and must have made a promise to herself. Although the newborn son she had was going to be bereft of a father figure in his life, she will work the hardest to make him the absolute greatest dad in the world. For sure, she would make him – in her own eyes – far superior to the man who hurt her.

Boy! Did she come thru on that promise!! “A great mother raises a great father”!!!

13 December 2017

As smart as funny he is… Mr. Wilson!!

Let’s see… when did I get to know Jim? Somewhere in the late 90s when we worked together in a company in Texas. Then, over the years, he and I have met a few times and every single time I have learnt something from him. Then I had a big gap. Which closed today!! Had a few drinks with him this evening…

Picked up quite a few brilliant nuggets of learnings he has had ever since I met him last time. But enjoyed his famous one liners and come backs even more.

One of the most memorable comments from him today was… “Rajib, there is no such thing as a stupid question.” Now, who amongst us has not heard that or said that innumerable times? But I bet you that none of you have heard the caustic addendum he had… “Only stupid people asking questions”!!

I think I was in the process of falling at the bar floor laughing my guts out, when I heard him say “Yeah! Don’t blame the question”!!

I really wish I get to see this guy more often!!

12 December 2017

Nikispeak!!

We had just finished dinner and were wrapping things up around the kitchen when Sharmila, who had a flashback of a moment from her art show today, said: “Something very funny happened today…”

Interrupting her almost instantaneously, Nikita asked “What? Did you look in a mirror?”

I am not terribly sure what happened next – since I hightailed it from the kitchen area immediately so that nobody could hear me laughing my head off 🙂