Another hectic week. Another weekend. If I had my way, every weekend would be like this. Sitting outside with all the necessary ingredients – Sharmila, her parents, Pinot Noir, the citronella lamps, the camera and iPhone to capture the moments and songs from the iPhone. As you can see from the last picture , everybody listened to songs well into the night….
Another intersection point with a great friend and colleague from the past. After the day long meetings last Wednesday, I grabbed my rental car and drove to the spot Stefanie and I had agreed to meet. If you are ever in the Milwaukee area, do not forget to have a drink or dinner at Seven Seas in Hartland. It is a beautiful restaurant set up in a very rural setting on Lake Nagawicka!
But the real excitement was in meeting Stefanie after 12 years. It was fascinating following her journeys from Germany to Dallas (where we worked together) to Seattle and now Wisconsin in a place called Oconomowoc as she moved every time her son in law and daughter moved just so that she could stay close to her granddaughters.
It was a delightful evening listening to her stories – and she had some really funny ones – and getting caught up on our old friends from the yesteryears. We used to sit in cubicles next to each other and we certainly remembered a lot of the funny events that had happened around us!!! There was that false anthrax scare at office!!! Apart from work, she was also a big part of my personal life. She was the person who was there with me in the hospital when we almost lost Sharmila to a miscarriage and was absolutely the most helpful person ever.
The funniest incident that we recalled involved a customer. As a background, Stefanie had a great, impressive looking dark green Mercedes SEL 500. And I was driving my much-battered Honda Civic (which eventually died on the road). In a conference room, myself and my team were engaged with a prospect and as the meeting started getting late, I was simultaneously sensing that we were going to get the deal. As the meeting slipped further, I let the prospect know that we had canceled his cab and I would personally drop him. That would give him some more time and also give me an opportunity to deal with him one on one if he wanted to go over some of the negotiation points.
And then it struck me that taking him in my beat up Civic might not give him all the right signals. I called up Stefanie and asked her if she would mind pulling her car up so I could drop the prospect. Stefanie, being Stefanie, immediately jumped on it and in a few minutes pulled her car up in front of the office door where I and the prospect were waiting with the rest of the team who had come down to say Bye.
As I drove off to the airport, I started chatting up the prospect and we started getting to know each other and our families. And as I pulled into the airport, he made an interesting comment – “If you don’t mind, may I say something?”. “Of course”, I said. “I am really impressed with your stature in your company and how fast you have reached there. I do not think I have ever seen any executive’s admin pull up his car from the parking spot before.” And I was like “Oh! Boy! This is going to be interesting”.
Finally, as I dropped him off, I blurted out .. “Well, Steve, I have something to say too”… and then explained the whole situation. We had a great laugh standing next to the drop off point. Turned out he was not much into cars either.
We got the deal the next day. I took Stefanie out for dinner that day to say Thank You. And this Wednesday was the next time I had dinner with her!!
I hope to run into Stefanie again down the road…
… Often reflect on one of the biggest thing of the past
It was a long work day. Finally came home and did something that the inlaws love doing whenever I am home. We sit by the pool, light up the citronella candles, pour some wine and start talking. Sharmila was busy with the kids – so it was just the three of us.
I learnt why my father in law is called what he is called. What I did not know is that in those days of high childbirth mortalities, his mom lost her first four kids. Out of tremendous pressure from society and family – those were not easy days for women in India to begin with, far less for women who could not bear a living child – she cried and prayed like crazy to God to let her next born live. Moment the child was born, she named him “Rakhahari” – meaning “Please keep (this one), God”!!! And He did!!
Who knew?
This morning, I was shopping online for a few items for myself and Natasha. She was going to pay her items with her gift card – except that her gift card had $15 more than her share of the shopping cart. So, I proposed that we use her card and I would give her $15 in cash. She said “Yes” and then immediately said, “Do not give me any cash. I need to buy something from Target later. I will use this difference – the money in the air, so to speak, that time”. I pointed out “That is called the credit I owe you”. She went “Whatever! There is no real money. It is money in the air.”
All along, Nikita was sitting next to me listening to us. Finally, she had to serve up Natasha with a technology correction. “That is not called ‘air’, Didi. That is called the ‘cloud’ “.
I was like “You go, girl!!”
So, there is this lovely lady called Bidisha Rudra. In 2007, when we moved from Dallas to Atlanta, we found out thru a common friend that she was looking for a nanny for her very young twins. Nikita’s nanny was out of a job (since we moved) and we made the connection. I think the nanny worked with Bidisha’s kids. After moving to Atlanta, one of the very few people I became reasonably close with – Amitesh – turned out to have known Bidisha and her family very well. Apparently, they lived in Atlanta before they moved to Dallas!!
After that, all I know is Bidisha and her family moved to Asia (multiple times?) for work. I never got to meet them but Sharmila and the kids have met them in their visits to Dallas later. I knew enough about her and her family that by this time we were Facebook friends too.
Now cut to many years later to this evening. As you see in the picture, the in-laws, Sharmila and myself were relaxing by the poolside late in the evening. One thing led to the other and finally, at the end of a really excited set of questions and answers, I was able to put the following together:
My wife’s dad’s sister’s husband’s brother’s son’s daughter is the same lovely lady Bidisha!!
Don’t ask me why I get so excited about these really long connections (remember my bench mate from fourth grade Subir Hore who I found out was a relative many times removed many years later? ). Probably the odds against a total population of 1.2 billion. As Bidisha herself put it “cosmic connection” 🙂
The last time she hugged my hand and went off to sleep on my shoulder was probably eight years back. Dad was still cool and not something to be embarrassed of.
The quality of the picture is ruined by the fact that the passenger behind has the window open, I cannot budge at all and have to do the whole thing including this post with my left hand!
Sometimes, I have to work hard to create intersection points and sometimes they just happen. This one just happened.
I had last met Mousumi Kar in 1988 sometime. We had common friends – my school friends Baisakhi, Debotosh et al were her college mates and that is how I got to know her. The two other memories I had of her was that once my mom had cooked dinner for her and her two room mates during a summer project and once I had visited her and her parents in Kolkata together with my college friend Ranga.
And that was it.
Till yesterday! Thanks to FB, I was aware that she and her husband Bratin were visiting USA from Germany (which is where they live) for a month with her younger son to tour the colleges. However, none of my work or personal visits were taking me anywhere near them.
And then finally got a break yesterday!
I was in Providence to pick up my daughter from Brown. Turns out they were visiting Harvard and MIT. One hour drive was all that I needed. Finally met her after 26 years. Had a great time with her, Bratin and her son Pramit at a Chipotle near Harvard. She has not changed a bit in those 26 years.
The funny part is Bratin and I have had many many common friends as we found out yesterday. And for the life of us, we could not figure out how our paths never crossed even once before yesterday.
Natasha and I were walking down a street of Providence after she said good byes to her new dorm friends. As we crossed a street intersection, while I kept listening to her continuous stories of exciting experiences of the last two weeks, I noticed that we went past a street vendor who was sitting all by himself with quite some kinick-knacks spread around him to sell. After a few seconds, I stopped Tasha and said – “Let’s give that guys some business. It is starting to rain. You never know how business has been for him. Seems to be wanting to make money the honest way.” I was fully expecting Tasha to brush me away. Luckily, she said “I needed to buy something for grandma – let’s see what he has”.
We took a few steps back and as Tasha spent over ten minutes deciding what to buy for her grand mom, I started making my moves to become friends with this stranger. It always starts with “Where are you from?”. He said ” Rhode Island”. Then looked at me, sized me up and added “But I am originally from Senegal”. And that is all the opening I was looking for. I asked him a lot of questions about Senegal, his family there, how good business has been and all I could to get to know another human being without being too much of an weirdo.
Once in a while a customer would come by and I would step aside to give him a chance to push his wares. Add then Tasha was done. But I was not. So, I told her that she should get one for herself. From me. That trick always works. And Silla – that is what I found his name was – and I started chatting again. From his French (Senegal was ruled by the French), to World Cup soccer to his ailing parents back at home, our topics could not have been more varied. I learnt that the name of the capital is Dakar and surprisingly, found out that Senegal is the westernmost country of the “Old World” (Europe, Africa, Asia). It is further west than all European countries!
It did make me reflect on a few things – the similarities of himself and myself – both first generation immigrants – with ailing parents to deal with many many miles away. And how, in spite of all those extremist thoughts that get news time (“playing soccer makes you unAmerican” is my favorite recent example) that make us wonder where this country is going, the inescapable fact is, this is still where people come to simply get a chance to work hard and make a living. Compared to many other countries, it is still a place that offers you a level playing ground to give you a shot at being happy. Sure, you have to work hard for that. But that beats entitlements and discrimination any day.
Tasha was done. She had two trinkets she had chosen. The total was $22. I immediately started haggling. Not sure why I did it. Perhaps it is the Indian in me. Perhaps I don’t want to let myself ever believe that money is an easy thing. I settled for $20. Still not sure why that $2 was important to me when I had the whole chance to not spend money at all.
Finally, I asked Silla if he would mind me taking a picture with him. He stood up to oblige me and that is when I realized how tall he was. “Ever played basketball?”, I asked. “No. But, I sure loved soccer”. And that was one more common thread between him and me and most first generation immigrants I know in this country.
I sure hope to come see him if my daughter ever chooses to go to Brown. Or If I simply happen to pass by Providence.
