16 February 2016

How cool is this?

It was June of 1975. We had just returned to our third grade after a five week summer vacation (those days, in India, for us, summer vacation was typically from early May to mid June). All of us came back except this really thin Punjabi girl with her signature two long hair plaits. (the Bengali word was “binuni”). Her name was Preeti Saini.

None of us knew what happened to her. To make matters worse, our teacher – Mrs. Bose was hospitalized with something. We had a substitute teacher who was equally in the dark. Over time, we all got busy with our studies and games on the field and forgot her.

And for years, it has bugged me no end to find out whatever happened to her. I am one of those guys that can never sleep well knowing that somebody who crossed my path in this life has gone completely dark on me. Years and years of search later, in a completely fortuitous way – and I mean this is serendipity heaped upon serendipity – I got to know that she lives not too far from where we are! You can read the details in this amazing story in http://www.rajibroy.com/?p=9648

Last week, my work took me to Minneapolis. A couple of calls before that and there I was with my friend who never showed up one fine day back in 1975. Fortunately, she showed up as scheduled forty one years later!!! Amazingly, she looked the same as I remembered her face from the first grade. (See the picture. The insets are from a picture in our first grade)

We had a great time catching up on our past, siblings, aging parents and the adoption of a new country as our own many many moons back…

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14 February 2016

Nikispeak: Nasty Look

Came home after the run and sat down for breakfast next to Nikita who was finishing up. Since she is the queen of procrastination, I tried to get her a jump start on her weekend work…

Me: How much homework do you have this weekend?
She: A lot
Me: Have you made a schedule?
She: No
Me: Why are you sitting here? Should you not get started on your work?
She: I don’t feel like it
Me: (sarcastically) Well, at least schedule in one hour tomorrow evening for crying since you will have unfinished homework.
She: (even more sarcastically) I would give you a nasty look right now but you already have one!

I went back to my breakfast, having been squarely beaten in my game of sarcasm!!

1 February 2016

Youth is a gift of nature. Age is a work of art!

It think it was Satchel Paige who had once asked “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you was?”. If we did not know what a calendar is, how old would we judge ourselves?

Last night, we had a chance to celebrate the 70th birthday of Mrinal-da. That is by the calendar time. Without a calendar, most of us would put him somewhere around early thirties. Late twenties, on a good day. Here is a gentleman, who is exactly the same age as my mom – and yet, he were any younger, he might have to do stupid things.

It is just not about his ability to defy physical age. Agreed, he might need a few minutes to catch his breath between the game points in a game of tennis but he will chase the ball wherever it goes and return it – often much to the surprise of his opponent and get the match point. It is like he is told himself that till he sees the ball bouncing the second time with his own eyes, it is still fair game. Like I was saying – it is not the physical strength – it is that mental tenacity to not give up even while playing players clearly half his age.

But all that makes him look young. What really makes him young is his attitude towards life. He can as easily hold court with a couple of septuagenarians as with a couple of teenagers. Somehow, he manages to adjust to everybody’s outlook, points of views and have meaningful exchanges.

In the eight years I have known Mrinal-da, I cannot remember once – even once, he speaking ill or even in a slightly bad light of anybody. It is not like he agrees with everything but you can’t get him to say anything negative about anybody. I firmly believe, somehow that is the core of his being. Being able to see the positive in everything has manifested itself in all the other things we see in him.

An outstanding story from a few years back – I think I had written about it before. Mrinal-da was playing tennis with another friend of mine and in the next court were two teenagers – brother and sister – who happened to be the kids of a very close friend of mine. Now, these two siblings were State rated players (that too Texas – which is one of the toughest state in this front) – so obviously their shots were quite a few notches above other players around in the various courts.

Mrinal-da, apparently, stopped his game and intently watched the brother and sister hit the ball. And then during a break, he went up to them, introduced himself, complimented them on their game and said “When I grow up to be as old as you are, I want to learn how to play like you”.

That story embodies Mrinal-da in every aspect of his being.

Incidentally, the dad of the kids narrated this story to me later and I realized that there is probably one such guy in this world. A couple of phone calls later, it was established – indeed it was Mrinal-da!

So, here is to you Mrinal-da on your 70th birthday:

Throw that calendar away. Stay in your mid thirties for another ten years!!!

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17 January 2016

I might have met my twin !!

Okay, he is a handsome looking, younger, Caucasian guy with a lot of hair on his head. And I am anything but! However, it is another of those great “intersections points” I had on the road.

This one does not involve any airport or distant places. It was in fact in Norcross (a suburb of Atlanta) where our office is located. A few days back, sometime late in the evening, I realized that I was the last person left in the office. I still had a few emails and documents to go thru. I packed up, locked the office and went to a favorite bar of mine near the office. It is actually a very old railway station converted to a bar and restaurant. (called The Crossing). Early in the week, usually the bar is not that crowded and it allows me to do all this email and document stuff I keep for the end of the day. The best part is the train going by every fifteen minutes or so (mostly freight trains and a few Amtrak trains) and rattling the whole place. Still get fascinated watching a train go by so near and close.

In any case, on this day, at some point I started to wind up all the office work and settled down on my second and last drink. I am not sure how it happened – I think I was talking to the barlady Nicole about Powerball – but I somehow managed to talk to a couple – who had come and settled down not too far from me sometime during the evening. At the end of half an hour of talking, I came away convinced that he is my (better) twin!!

Tim and Nanette were their names. Tim mentioned about being in a “gap year” (retiring for some time before going back to a new job). That was all the lead I needed. I am a big believer of that. I excitedly told him about all my “time off” years. We talked about the philosophy of breaking up retirement from “once and done” to multiple periods of retirements so as to enjoy life in the different decades we live thru. We also talked about the common challenges people have (and frankly, we had) around the prospect of taking time off. (Most of it is around a feeling of financial insecurity – which, in my personal opinion, is a false fear). We also talked about Bronnie Ware’s “Top Five Regrets of a Dying Man”.

What was absolutely weird were some of the common things we have done during our time offs. Turns out he is a mixologist too!! And a runner!!! And practices music! Knows somebody who plays the tabla (which is what I play)!! I tried to encourage him to write up his life story in a blog. Did not need any encouragement – he already has multiple blogs and FB pages. (As an aside, he wrote about our meeting too!! – http://www.myfirstretirement.com/2016/01/15/gap-year/).

The picture below will give you a great idea of how much fun I had that evening with two complete strangers at a bar! I hope to run into them and exchange our stories more often!!

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13 January 2016

Aha! intersection point upon intersection point!!

You probably recollect my blog from yesterday where I talked about running into Nancy Yates minutes before I got onto my flight to St. Louis. (see http://www.rajibroy.com/?p=9785). Guess what happened after I got down? Well, following my normal routine, I strolled towards the luggage belts to pick up my suitcase. I had barely reached the belt when the same thing happened again – I could hear a lady’s voice yelling “Rajib! Rajib!!”. I turned around – half incredulous that I would have two intersection points in a matter of a couple of hours. But there she was – Patricia Numprasong!!

Patricia and I go back some time. In fact, in the ranks of those people who have tried to keep me in line at office – like Marte, Kelly, Denise, Stefanie, Leah, Vicky and so on…, Patricia is way up their in my list who I flustered the most. There was a short period of time when I was asked to temporarily fill in the big shoes of my personal and professional friend Rob (who is now the CIO of Etihad Airways) and Patricia was entrusted to work with me. I did get to know about her family – especially her daughter who got married around that time and her son.

It was such a delight to meet Patricia after such a long time and catch up on her and her family. I also got to make a new friend – Doreen – who was with her.

This was my first flight in the new year. With these kind of perks, I can’t wait to get back on the road again….

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12 January 2016

Sometimes, it is not bad if a lady is yelling at you!!

Sharmila is back and that can mean only one thing – I am free to travel again. First working day – Monday morning – found me at the airport even before the sun had risen. Monday morning Atlanta airport – that is a Fitbit wearer’s dream scenario – and a flyer’s nightmare. You can easily log 10,000 steps just walking to the security queue and then weaving your way eventually to the TSA agent.

The good news is that I carry a long list of phone calls to make with me. First it was the birthday phone calls to India and Asia and then my daily calls to mom and my brother. By the time I cleared security, I was already on office calls. Those office calls continued as I went down to the train station and instead of jumping on to the train, just walked from terminal to terminal. Eventually came to my gate and noticed that they had just started boarding. The Fitbit violently vibrated signaling I had reached my goal for the day already.

As is my wont, instead of getting into the plane, I just got onto another office call and kept walking around the gate till the last person had gotten in. I love being one of the last persons to board. But as I was strolling from gate to gate, I suddenly heard – what appeared to be a lady’s voice yelling – “Oh! My God! Rajib???”.

Well, “Oh! My God” followed by your name – that too by a lady, in a uncommon place – is surely going to cause some consternation to anybody. Far more so for a nondescript person as I. I swung around and what did I see?? There was a lady sitting on the floor surrounded by her luggage and smiling at me from ear to ear.

And that is how I met Nancy Yates after a loooooong time! We did business together – well, almost did business together – in a prior life and have kept up with each other thru birthday greetings and all that but I had not seen her for the longest time. The funny part is she had to spend another minute explaining to her office mates – she was on a conference call when she spotted me – the reason for her unforeseen exuberance on the phone microphone.

Anyways, she was on a call and my flight was making last calls. I did get a chance to sit down with her, chat for a few minutes, get somebody to take a picture of us, promised to have a coffee with her soon and dart to my plane.

I was the last person to board. But the memory of seeing Nancy after such a long time will last me a longer time!!!

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26 December 2015

Detailed instruction sheets on the refrigerator!

This can mean only one thing!

She is leaving for India!!

Apparently, there is enough food in the fridge for me to have parties at our home every evening till she comes back! There is even a helpful reminder that we should feed the dogs!!

I love it how it starts with a detailed Do-It-Yourself instructions on how to make rice and just to leave nothing to chances on either side of the alimentary canal, she has left instructions on what to do if we get into septic tank trouble!! This is some serious sh** 🙂

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25 December 2015

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”