This is a completely different level of talent
I have a niece in India – Shreya – who has some unparalleled God gifted talent in art. She had seen a picture I had posted of me playing the tabla and Jay Jay listening to me. Then she drew this for me and handed it over to Sharmila and Natasha (who are in India) as a gift for me.
I am blown away by how life like it is and the clever use of agitrons in a painting!
Best gift. Ever.
Something the London Underground train drivers can learn from me
If they knew how to park their trains like I do my parallel parking, all of London could heave a collective sigh of relief and stop Minding the Gap incessantly.
This was in front of my house. My 17 year old car has no rear view camera. In the rains, with compromised visibility, I managed to parallel park like the champions.
To be sure, this is an exceptional event.
Here is the problem though. My car is low. And I am old. Getting off to the curb directly was a Herculean test for my left knee!!
We have a new guest in our beverage center
The Roy Family!!
Just before the tradition of Christmas lunch (luchi-aloor dum-chicken-payas) started. The one day that we celebrate with the two daughters making luchi – one does the bela (rolling with rolling pins) part and the other does the bhaja (frying) part!
The two dogs – after morally supporting and egging the girls on for a full hour, mostly by walking between their legs in great anticipation – were mighty disappointed to realize that they could not partake in the aforementioned luchi-aloor dum-chicken-payas.
Midnight icecream at Avalon
I had one of those Steve Urkel moments
Thirty one years later!!
If you are Bengali-ly-challenged, all you need to know when somebody says “Durga Pujo” is something like the Brazilian Carnival, the German Oktoberfest, the Spanish Tomatina, the American Mardi Gras… all rolled into one. While it has some religious roots, people from all religion get together for 4 days of showing off in their finest dresses to do some “dhunuchi” dances (you will literally be holding fire and smoke in your hands), get high on “bhang”, eat a lot of goat meat and … loud music (“dhaak” – that percussion instrument that can swing even the oldest oak tree from side to side ) and of course, formless (“who the heck cares”) and formful (“we are from Santiniketan”) dancing.
EVERY. STREET. CORNER.
If you have not experienced Durga Pujo in Bengal, you do not know what energy is all about. Einstein and his MCsquared be darned!
Sharmila has not seen that energy ever since we moved to this country. 31 years back.
And neither have I.
Part of the challenge was that the kids never got time off in USA during Durga Pujo. Mostly because teachers asked “What is Durga Pujo?”
I was able to convince Sharmila to visit her mother during Durga Pujo this year. A bit surprisingly. Not the least because every other year she would say – you cannot take care of the kids when I am gone. Well, we are empty nesters now.
Hearing that she is coming – apparently the whole India sibling brigade got into a high gear. I understand now my brother and his family showing up in the small town – Durgapur – we all grew up in. And my sister and her family is following suit. Not to be left behind her own brother and his family are making a beeline to Durgapur too!
That ought to be a get together of a lifetime for the Roy/Ghose Family!!
How I wish I were there too!!
But as the eldest of the group, my role is to co-ordinate the whole thing and make sure it happens. Remind me to tell you next time how the three families were going to land up for a dinner get together on three different days if not for yours truly from USA reminding them they that they were totally messed up on their count of Saptami/Oshtomi/Nobomi and their Friday/Saturday/Sundays.
Scare of my life
How irritating is it when the phone rings while you are in the middle of an important meeting?
I had just landed in London after a near sleepless night and was in the middle of some serious discussions with the Board when the table vibrated slightly. Everybody glanced at their phones or fished them out of their pockets. I noticed that it was my phone and it said “No Caller Id”. Well, one more of those scam calls, I concluded. Pressed the power button to cancel the call, looked at the beautiful River Thames in front and proceeded with my spiel.
Within 5 seconds, the phone rang again. With “No Caller Id”. Fairly persistent fraudster. Canceled it yet again.
And sure enough, they called up yet again. For a moment, I had a doubt that Sharmila or the daughters might be trying to get hold of me. Excused myself and picked up the phone.
“This is Alpharetta Police Department. Am I talking to Rajib Roy?”
This was TROUBLE.
“Let me take this. It is urgent”, I told the Board members as I ran out of the room, fearing some real bad news. Visions of one of the three in an accident is what kept flashing in my mind.
“This is Rajib Roy speaking. What is going on?”
“Your car is parked in an illegal spot. You need to move it now or we will have it towed.”
That was confusing. My car is at the airport. It is in a reserved parking spot. There is no way my car is anywhere near Alpharetta.
“Where is the car?”
“On Highway 9. In front of Smokejack. We have signs all over not to park anywhere on the road due to downtown events”.
“Officer, I am in London right now. I suspect that is my wife’s doing. Let me call her”
So, I called Sharmila and sure enough she and Nikita were out and about and had the car parked where it should not have been.
I went back to the room and within a minute there was a message from Nikita that they had moved the car to a proper place.
Late in the evening after all meetings, I called up Sharmila to find out what had happened.
She explained that there indeed was a sign not to park. They saw it. It said Oct 15.
“Well, why were they disallowing cars to be parked there today? It is Oct 13th today.”
She explained herself.
Unfortunately, my phone had said “No Caller Id”. If I knew the number, I was so going to call back Alpharetta Police Department and let them know that somebody thinks it is all their fault. The “From” date should not have been written in smaller font than the “To” date!
Another throwback to the past!
Now next to the vinyl record player, I have an old style radio. Or as we called in India – “transistor”!! Sharmila and I have already looked up the timings of our favorite radio programs.
For example, after Saturday morning Farmers Market shopping for vegetables, next up in the Roy residence? “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me!”