24 December
2013
24 December
2013
Charpoy!
24 December
2013
Dhaba experience
21 December
2013
It was worth breaking my own rules!!!
“There is a glass of wine with your name written on it here”, read the text message from Rupak. It was 9:30 at night. I had just finished up my work for the day. I was wondering what to do for the last thirty minutes before I hit the sack. I was certainly feeling bad that I had skipped the party Rupak and Jasmine had thrown to celebrate Rupak’s brother-in-law Swarup’s (who was visiting from Melbourne, Australia) 40th birthday. But I am too stuck up in my ways to eat late and sleep late. Plus Sharmila and the daughters were there in full force anyways.
However, Rupak – may his tribe increase – hit me at the right time. I was wondering what to do and I realized once I saw his text message that I had not had any wine that evening. So, off I went, throwing caution to the winds.
I was introduced to his sister Rupa and brother-in-law Swarup and their really really cute small daughters. I had spent most of the time with their 16 month old when Rupa showed us a special video she had made for Swarup’s birthday. She had done, what I thought, was a fantastic job in stitching together a lot of old memories of Swarup – right from his birth all the way to birthday greeting videos from his friends all over the world. I was really surprised by how well she had done it – especially while keeping it a secret from Swarup.
Finally, I spent some time with Swarup. As always, I tried to see if I can find some “intersection points”. Of course, I had learnt a lot about his past from the video.
My opening shot was “Which DPS in Delhi?” (DPS is the school he went to; there are multiple branches)
Swarup: “The oldest one . Mathura Road”
Dead end 🙁 All the ones I know are from RK Puram.
I remembered from the video that his first job was in Hind Motor.
Me: “So, do you know Mr. I.R. Sharma?” (He was my high school classmate’s father; high up in Hind Motor management and I had met him a couple of times)
I again struck out. The timelines did not match.
And so the discussions went.
And then I remembered his engineering college.
So I asked him: “Which batch?”
Swarup: “1995”
Me: “I see. By the way, would you know a Chiradeep Roy from your batch?”
Swarup (excitedly): “Of course. We were great friends. We used to eat together.. hang out together… how do you know him?”
Instead of answering his question directly, I told him “Wait”. Then I fished out my iPhone photos and picked out an old scanned black and white picture. Zoomed in on one face and asked “Did he look like this?”
Swarup – after a few seconds – “Yes. But he had glasses”.
Me: “I know. This picture is 12 years younger than when you knew him”.
And then I panned to another face in the photo and zoomed in.
Me: “Do you recognize this face?”
Swarup kept thinking.
I helped him a little. “Imagine the hair is gone”.
Swarup recognized!! “Is this you?”
“Indeed!”, I said and then panned to the rest two faces in the photo and added “and those are our parents!!”
“CHIRADEEP IS YOUR OWN BROTHER”????? Swarup was just floored.
For the next few minutes, he kept on asking if he was my “own” brother. A distant cousin, a relative… was more believable. But meeting the elder brother of your close friend from college twenty years later on the other end of the world from where you live… now that was an unbelievable coincidence.
See, this is why I believe in “intersection points”.
Rupak, thank you for saving that glass of wine for me. I got to know my dearest brother’s dear friend from twenty years back!!! It went down very well with that fine wine!!!
19 December
2013
Perfect antidote !!!
After the stress of the prospect of having to cancel our India trip (visa issues for Natasha) and the scramble to end the year at office, meeting Amitesh for a few late hours was the perfect antidote that the doctor had prescribed. Nothing can take my mind off than sitting with Amitesh at a very quiet bar nearly into midnight discussing topics that few would think of as “bar topics” 🙂
Today, we spent a lot of time discussing (and researching on internet)
(*) the effect of Calcium level in heart by high level of LDL in blood. (don’t ask me how we got started)
(*) the importance of understanding why we do what we do (especially in professional life)
(*) the relativity of the definition of happiness (this is an effect of a prior FB post)
(*) the plight of gays in India (recently, India has taken a Russia-like position on gays)
While the topics can be mundane, the discussions are always lively !!
17 December
2013
Sometimes the Mountain has to go to Mohammaad!
Got to meet Tathagata after what seems like ages. I was not on the road today, uncharacteristically. But he was. And he was traveling to Atlanta. So, we squeezed out what was supposed to be an hour meeting after 6 which turned out to be a 4 hour meeting. What a great time I had with this guy who I got to spend two months with during my fifth grade and then again, a few years in the same company twenty five years or so later.
The one time my dad did come to this country, he became a big fan of Tathagata because of his vast knowledge of Bengali literature, poems and culture. Both of us play the tabla although he is light years ahead of me. Picked up some good tips on how to improve my tabla.
There was so much to catch up on from our elementary and high school days…
Some of our discussions veered towards the philosophical – including being in the unenviable position of being the financial stability provider to a much larger family in India and the inevitable role of money around how it can completely queer so many otherwise near and dear relationships…
I do not know too many people who is a star in a company like McKinsey and works as a professor in an University.
Hope to spend many many more hours with him in my life. There is a lot I can learn from him…
12 December
2013
A story like none before!!
By now you must be sick and tired of my “here is somebody I reconnected with after twenty years” stories. If not, I know a good psychiatrist who might be be able to help you 🙂
That said, I promise you that this story is like no other before. For one, this is going to be a long one. Pull up your chairs!!! For another, I am on the verge of living up to a word I had given nearly 37 years back. For yet another, I am very very close – not yet fully done – on finishing up the longest and the most frustrating search for somebody.
You see, this is the story of my VERY FIRST friend of my life. We got to know each other ever since I reached consciousness. He was my nearest and dearest friend at a age where crayons used to be my second best friend 🙂 However, we got separated at an early age – I was yet to hit double digits at that time.
My early memories of Khokon – that is what we called him – includes playing chess with him (he diligently beat me) and his dance to the tune of “Sohag Chaand Bodone” – which summed up the total number of songs he and I put together knew 🙂
I also remember his dad and mom. I especially remember watching his mom one day doing some stuff on a mat quietly and I asked her later about it. She explained that she was doing her “namaaz” – the Islamic way of saying prayers. I remember asking her why could she not do the way all of us did (the Hindu way). She then explained to me the differences in religions. I did not understand much. But the words “Ram and Allah are the same” stuck in my mind. I figured at that early age that I got to find about these two guys and why people believe they are the same.
Endless hours used to pass by with my friend, my sister, my brother and me climbing up trees in our backyard or playing with marbles or simply doing stuff kids at early elementary school years were prone to do in India those days.
However, the memory that has been seared in my mind is he leaving us. I still remember like it was yesterday. 1977 late March. News came from Burdwan – about 30 miles away from where we lived in Durgapur, that his grandmother had passed away – two years after his grandfather had passed away. April end they came back after the final rites and let everybody know that they were going to move to Burdwan. And just like that I woke up one early morning of May first week to realize that they were leaving us for good. Guyen-uncle, who drove a public transport minibus had volunteered to drop them in his minibus to the station. As all the neighbors gathered around, he was the last one to get onto the bus after wishing me good bye. My last words – I still remember vividly – were “Abaar dekha hobey bondhu” (“I will see you again, my friend”). And before I knew anything, they were gone.
I had no idea how difficult it would be for me to stay true to my word. You see, while only 30 miles separated us – for crying out loud, that is how much I drive everyday to my office – in those days of no telephone, no internet, it was next to impossible to find him out.
That summer was very troublesome for me. I whined to my mom all the time “What can I do now?” 🙂
The next few years went by with me focussing on my studies. Once in a while I used to wonder how was my friend doing. He was a topper in his school when he was in Durgapur. So, naturally I wondered every “report-card day” how he was faring. I used to ask around if anybody knew where he was but never made any progress.
When I left my state in 1985, I started getting really curious about what was he up to. I even scanned the merit list for Higher Secondary exams to see if I could find his name as a topper. Sadly, I did not.
Then I left the country. But by then, phones had started becoming more prevalent. I would often call up anybody and everybody in India who might know something about him and his parents. It was one fruitless call after another.
Then came the late nineties and emails started becoming more and more common in India. Yet another tool. Yet another set of searches. And yet another set of frustrations.
Through the 2000s, I added physical search – I would visit his old school mates, neighbors and enquire about him. By now, I had become so used to dead ends that I had zero expectations from anybody. But in the process, I made some more friends and renewed some old intersection points.
There was this poignant episode once where I found out where dad used to work and went straight to the HR manager and told him that I was looking for Mr. Abdul Latif (I remembered his dad’s name). The HR gentleman was highly suspicious of me but I did manage to get him to look all old records. Unfortunately for me, uncle had taken voluntary retirement and left the company some time back. I even found out the last known address and visited that place – to no avail 🙁 That was the closest I got in the search.
Then came the age of social media. I signed up on popular social media sites – Orkut, Facebook, Linked In and every four or five months I would search for “Moniruddin” or “Abdul Latif” and all sorts of permutations and combinations. I would send messages to them asking if they were the same guy I was talking about. As you must have guessed, no responses, whatsoever.
I had no idea what happened to my friend. Is he alive? Is he happy? How are his parents? He was my first friend ever. The one who influenced me when I was in my earliest formative ages. He was my friend at an age where being friends came without expectations, without any judgments and with simple, pure delight of each other’s company. It gnawed me no end.
To the extent, that after coming back from our vacation in Costa Rica last to last Friday, the first night at home, I dreamt of my friend and his parents multiple times. Next day, while having coffee with Sharmila, I told her about my dreams. She was aware of the history and said that I should continue to look for him.
So, again, I searched a few more Moniruddins and Abdul Latifs on Facebook, Google Plus, Linked in etc that morning. Here is a sample of a message that I sent to them : “Are you sheikh moniruddin – born in Durgapur, alias Khokon? If not, apologize. Please ignore..”
Ah! well, that was that. The kids woke up and I got busy.
Couple of days later, when I was on a business trip to New York, I got the following reply in Facebook: “Yes I am sheikh moniruddin well known by Khokon. I was at Durgapur in my childhood. What is your nickname?”
Now, if any of you are in Id Fraud business like me, you will quickly discern that whoever this person gave me an affirmative response did not give me any more information than I had given in my original message, anyways. The fraudsters, these days, are very very smart.
But I guess hope runs eternal in the human heart. So, I wrote a cautious response that night from New York: “Bachchu. Just so that I know I am totally sure that I got the right person, can you tell me something more that will help me identify you? Do you remember your street name? Or quarter number? I remember your dad’s name too if you want to give that so I know it is indeed Khokon”. Note my cleverness in how I did not give out much information from my side.
I had to get up very early morning next morning to go for a run with a customer at Central Park. Woke up before 5 and found this message sitting in FB: “Name of the road-Netaji Subhas Road. Street no. 6 Quarter no.6/10. Father’s name-Sk Abdul Latif. What is your father’s name? What is your mother’s profession?”
I could barely move!!! It is indeed that Khokon!!!!! The same guy that was my first friend and left nearly 37 years back!! I was too numbed to think anything. Decided not to do anything and think it thru during my run….
After my run, a deep fear started creeping up on me. I remember him – but does he remember me? Does he remember me well? Did he ever miss me? I had an incident five years back in Atlanta where in a friend’s house, I recognized a guest as my second grade classmate from India. While he was stunned by the facts that I rattled off (including his twin brother being in the same class as us), he showed absolutely no interest in trying to rekindle our old relationship. In fact, he has never responded to my emails thereafter.
All these fears started clouding my thoughts.
But there was a ray of hope. He did not ask my mom’s name. He wanted to know her profession. You know why? Because my mom was a teacher. And taught him in his school for a year! Only he would know that!!!!
Couple of hours later, I wrote the following message: “Yes! You are indeed the same Khokon!! Can you recognize me? Bachchu from 6/2 north avenue. We were friends before you left Durgapur in 1977. My sister is Soma and brother is Pinku. We had a cow. Do you remember now?”
Note the desperation in mentioning the cow. When my dad moved me, my mother and himself from the village hut that I was born in to Durgapur, he brought a cow with us named “Kaali” (yes, it was black in color). Nobody else, as far as a moo could be heard, had a cow in their house. I figured even if Khokon did not remember me, he certainly would remember the cow. Further note how I also assumed he would not remember me. “Do you remember me NOW”, I had asked.
Two hours and infinite number of Facebook refreshes later I got this message “Yes I recognized you from your first message. How are your parents?How is Soma? How is Pinku? My father passed away in September 2008. Mother is so so. Now I live in Burdwan. My mobile no.is XXXXXXXX (redacted)”
You could have knocked me off with a feather!!!! I HAD FOUND HIM!!!!! HE REMEMBERS ME!!!!!
The following half an hour was a blur – I vaguely remember pacing up and down in the hotel lobby and the first words were us yelling each others’s names at least half a dozen times over the phone!!!! Not only did he remember me, he told me more details about our times together than I could remember myself!!!
All this time, his mom kept interrupting him to talk to me. Once she took the phone, both of us were on the verge of crying. It seems that they had often talked about me and my parents and my siblings and have often wondered whatever happened to us. She just would not put the phone down. For twenty minutes we kept talking!!!!!
The best realization on both sides was yet to come. It suddenly dawned upon me something that I should have thought of mentioning way before. I let them know that I will be in India visiting my parents in two weeks’ time. I CAN AND WILL COME AND SEE THEM!!!!!
I have but a dim memory of his face. I have no photo of him. I just remember him being dark and tall. I have no recollection of how his mom’s face looked those days. I just remember her being fair. Unfortunately, I will never get to see his dad ever!!!! He was such a nice person to me every time I talked to him!!!!
But you know what? Thirty six years, eight months and two weeks (that is pretty much three fourths of my life) after giving somebody a word that I barely understood myself “I will see you again, my friend”, fate, technology and perseverance has given me a chance to stay true to my word.
Look out for a blog update / FB post of a picture of me and Khokon around Dec 27th or so.
This is certainly someday going to be the “History of my Future”!!
11 December
2013
An inspiring meeting!
Had a brilliant time over a drink with Milind last evening after a full day’s worth of work. I had the opportunity to work together with him – nearly ten years younger to me – in i2 many many moons ago. There were some 10,000 employees that had worked at some point of time in i2. By my experience – and feedback from those thousands of i2ers who went and joined a lot of other companies – it certainly was an exceptional place in terms of an unbelievable number of really really smart people coming together under one tent with an incredible “whatever it takes” attitude.
Most all of them have moved on to other companies following great careers. However, I have always wondered whether we created enough entrepreneurs who would go on to start their own companies. For such an entrepreneurial environment, it strikes me as though we might not have had our fair share.
Milind is certainly the most successful entrepreneur I know of from i2.
Having created a company which, in its short history of seven years (last five have generated revenue) has reached an annual revenue generation of nearly $200M, he probably produces more revenue than all entrepreneurs from i2 put together.
What a great success story at such an early age.
We talked a lot about the challenges of growing and sustaining a company. The challenges of building coherent teams and a deliberate culture. Great discussions. Very inspiring.
Hope to see many more young men and women from my past create value in this world like Milind has.
Then he floored me with something.
I did not know this but early in his career, apparently he worked for a Swiss gentleman named Mr. Hertig who had moved to Mumbai and had created an eponymous company to make fine writing instruments and sell there. Milind has a few fountain pens saved from those days.
He had read about my fascination for fountain pens in a previous post and guess what? Since that day, he had saved a pen set for me waiting to meet me some day. That day happened yesterday!
Here’s to many more successes to you, Milind. So much so, that none of my fountain pens can ever finish writing about them!!!
10 December
2013
Tuktuki !!!
Much delayed flight to New York. Reached after 9 pm. Of course, the first thought was why waste a perfect dinner on myself when there is always a chance to revisit an old intersection point?
Managed to wake up Paromita – little sister of my dear friend from high school and college days – Partho Roy – and we had dinner. (I did give her an advanced warning a few hours back).
She thinks we met last in 2003. Neither Sharmila nor I can remember that. I do recollect meeting her in 1988 though!!!
I found out that her dorm room mate from college days is none other than my own brother ‘s wife !!!
Also that she dated somebody from my team some twelve years back and I used to be a common topic of discussion for the date nights . (No points for guessing that it did not work out 🙂 )
While ten years younger to me, I still asked her life’s lesson in a few words. Without hesitation, she said “Stand up for yourself”. She has no idea how closely I relate to those words…..
6 December
2013
This is why I dig up my past…
Most of you are aware that one of my life’s missions is to keep in touch with people who have crossed my path long time back. I have been in many ways – perceptibly and imperceptibly, influenced by each one of them. Reconnecting with them – often after decades – is my way of thanking them for the opportunity I had to spend some time together in this short life. That, to me, is a reward in of itself.
Sometimes, though, there are awkward situations when a person cannot recognize me – in spite of giving vivid details. That is often frustrating and embarrassing. On the other hand, sometimes it is not only the case that I get the thrill of reconnecting with somebody from long past – but soon realize that I know somebody else that has crossed their path before and I put them together. That gives great satisfaction. One such incident happened this week. This email will always be there for me to read up every time I get frustrated following dead ends looking for my friends from the past…(names redacted to respect privacy; I will leave it up to them to identify themselves if they want to)
From: XXXX
To: YYYY; Rajib Roy <roy_rajib@yahoo.com>
Sent: Thursday, December 5, 2013 7:59 PM
Subject: RE: Re-introductions
Hey YYYY
Great to hear from you … wow what a small world! Smaller when you note that most of my school friends now know Rajib 🙂
Yes we should catch up – send me your phone # and will chat over the weekend.
Rajib,
Thanks for all the connects bhai. Suddenly feel I am part a long lost group that I was just unaware of.
Hi to Sharmila and bachcha log, and do look ZZZZ up when you are in DC next.
Cheers,
XXXX