For a person who suffers from acute acrophobia AND claustrophobia (to the point of having to be medicated at times), I find myself in an aluminum tube way up some thirty five thousand feet in the air with disturbing frequency.

And yet those eight million frequent flyer miles got me to meet so many human beings from every walk of life. Interactions that have enriched me and often humbled me as a human being.

Nikita, Sharmila and I had just finished our TSA stuff at Washington National airport after a college visit for Nikita. We strolled thru the airport leisurely dodging all the passengers running in and out of the planes and then took the elevator to the Delta Skyclub.

After we were checked in, I told the girls – “You folks go ahead. I am going to talk to that lady”. And I pointed out to the second lady who was checking in another passenger.

I waited patiently as she helped the passenger. And then when he was done, he walked up to her. And she welcomed me to the Club.

“Welcome to the Club. Can I check you in?”
“Well, I am already checked in. I am here to talk to you.”
“About what?”, she asked, justifiably confused.
“Well, I used to fly into this airport every week for two years spanning 2010-2012. You used to usher me in then. In spite of the mask you are wearing, I am very sure you are the same person.”
“Well, of course! I used to be here then too! You remember me?”
“I do indeed”
“What is your last name?”
“Roy”
“I see you have two young ladies with you today”, she said as she quickly located me in the system.
“Yes, my wife and daughter. They are sitting inside.”
“Roy? Bengali?”
“Yes!”
“Bangla boltey paren?” (Can you speak in Bengali?)
“Oboshhoi” (But, of course)
“Kemon Aachen?” (How are you?)
“How do you know Bengali?”

Well, Jatindar (her name) came into the lounge and spent some time with Sharmila and Nikita. And that is when I got my answer. While she is from Delhi, she used to live in Kolkata when she was in school. In fact, she went to Brabourne College! Like Sharmila, she moved to the US after getting married.

We went around the Club and I told her all the details from a decade back that have changed now (for the better).

Before she took leave, we let her know that DC is the city Nikita is headed for college this year. She is going to see more of Sharmila and me the next few years.

“I can’t wait”… she said as she waved walking away.

My thoughts kept floating in and out… Neither can I !! It is people like you that make life in an aluminum tube – nay, life in general – so much more exciting and interesting!!!

If any of you happen to be in the Delta Skyclub in Washington National airport, do stop by to say Hi to this fine young lady!!

fly from Portland, New Jersey and Atlanta to meet in Chicago, only unmitigated mirth can follow!

The vans picked us up from our hotel to take us to the winery an hour away where we were going to have our Corporate offsite. Anand, our local executive in Portland, had taken care of all the logistics.

I got to sit in the front next to the driver. The team knows I suffer from car sickness among other things – like fear of heights, fear of closed places and sometimes, sheer lunacy. Maybe I enjoy the last bit rather than suffer from it.

In any case, I sit next to the driver. A complete stranger. But then again, as Kelly had once described me “You know no stranger”

“What is your name?”, I asked the young, rather comely looking driver.
“Abraham”, replied the soft spoken gentleman without talking his eyes off the road.
“So, have you lived all your life in Portland?”
“No, sir! For fifteen years.”
“Where were you before this?”
“Kurdistan”
“Wait, what??”
“You know Kurdistan?”
“Of course, I know Kurdistan. I love your music.”
“Really?”, he asked looking at me, for the first time taking his eyes off the road for a split second.
“Wait. How is your name Abraham? Are you not a Muslim?”
“Yes. But there are a lot of Jewish people in Kurdistan.”
“I did not know that. Are you Jewish?”
“No. My mother’s best friend was. And when I was born, she had asked if my mom would name me Abraham (a Jewish name). And that was how I got my name.”
“Fascinating!”

“But you said you love our music.”
“Yes, my favorite song from your place is Kamarey Kamarey. I have heard the one by the Rashtak group. Do you know that song?”

For the second time, he took his eyes off the road.
“You know Kamarey Kamarey?”
“Well, I know the tune. But I do not know the meaning.”
“Wow! I have never met anybody in this country who knows our country songs. How do you know songs from our country?”

I explained to him that when I had first learnt that the gypsies in Romania actually originated from Rajasthan, India, I had looked up their migration path. And studied what effect it had to the local music. As nomads, you do not show your culture thru paintings and artisanship. You will have too many things to carry a\round. So, music was the way. That time, I had listened to a lot of songs from places like Kurdistan, Azerbaijan etc.

I told him that in India, “Kamarey” can roughly mean a room or the waist in different languages. What was it in Kurdish? I learnt that the song lyrics were referring to the waist!! What a connection!

I got to know that my young friend Abraham went from Kurdistan to Turkey and then eventually left Turkey for the USA. I also found out that he knew Farsi.

Sticking to the theme of music, I asked him –
“You know Farsi? Here is another song you might know. Have you heard…” and then in my terrible Farsi pronunciation, I went on to sing “Man Ahmad-e Aam”.

He immediately took his eyes off the road and stared at me. “Oi, oi”?

“Oi,oi”, I confirmed.
We both knew the song!! But neither could remember the singer. We could describe how she looked but for the life of us, we could not remember her name.

By this time, we had reached our destination. Abraham and I took a picture together, became Facebook friends and parted.

That night, I had a FB message from him… “Googoosh, Mr. Roy”

Googoosh it was!! I suddenly remembered the Iranian singer’s name!!

I can’t wait to meet Abraham the next time I am in Portlandia!!

I cannot remember when I was introduced to Snowy – maybe 3 years back – but I remember I was introduced by her sister Ariel who used to work in the same hospice that I volunteered in at that time. Snowy was looking for a mentor and asked me if I would spend some time with her. (I know, I know, young people can have very low standards 🙂 ).

Over the last couple of years, we have talked about various topics – about her studies (she went back to college to study Accounting), her job, interviews, navigating company politics etc etc. But I never got a chance to sit with her face to face.

Today, over coffee, I got to know her a little more. What had struck me when I first talked to her was her unusual level of determination and the willingness to work hard for it. Today, she took me thru her family history and that made her determination even more impressive.

I have no doubt in my mind that Snowy is going to make a great professional of herself some day!

Last week I met Baisakhi and her son – Utsab (alias Kintu) in Durgapur. Missed Sagar since he was in Kolkata for some work. While I almost always meet them in their house, about six years back, I had the chance to meet all of them in the USA. They were visiting Sagar’s brother in Minnesota and I had shown up! Actually to keep a promise to Utsab.

I did not get a chance that day to meet Sagar’s brother Suban (alias Kuntal) but I did meet his sister in law – Tumpa. Ever since, I have kept up with them (Tumpa and Kuntal – and by the way – no surprises on the usual FB friendship, birthday calls etc). They eventually moved to Orlando.

And I was in Orlando for a conference. You can do the math now. Fortunately, this time, I did get to meet Kuntal and we had a good “adda”. The highlight was to meet their dogs before we said good bye!

I also realized something else – both the brothers married a Dutta girl. Baisakhi’s maiden name was Dutta – just like Tumpa’s! Much like my brother and I – both of us married a “Ghose” girl. In our case, my sister married a “Ghose” boy too!!