27 October
2017
27 October
2017
A few birds with one stone
After keeping all of us awake thru the night, dad finally settled down and went off to sleep around 6 in the morning.
That left me with an window of opportunity to get a few things done. I needed to check on a few folks and also finish off my run. Needed 6 more miles to get to the 100 mile mark for the month.
So, basically I kept running in the streets of Kalyani going from one house to the other. The icing on the cake was when I went to check on a gentleman who I had fortuitously met a year back and lately has been fighting back cancer, I ran into his son and daughter in law there too! They would be none other than our own Partha and Sreyashi – erstwhile denizens of Atlanta who live in St. Louis now.
I even got their two year old daughter to come out for a walk in the streets with the promise of the one incredible allure Indian streets have for all two year kid visiting from USA – street dogs!!!
26 October
2017
Rolling thru the streets…
As I mentioned in the last post, yesterday was a good day. He had asked for the first time to be taken out in his wheelchair. Normally, I have to coax him to agree to it.
We spent about an hour thru the streets of Kalyani in the evening hours. Because he was more alert, he and I spent a long time talking about small things and me trying to ask him questions about the past and see if his neurons, dendrons and synapses can start re-firing (or whatever it is that they do for a normal person). Surprisingly, he could recollect the addresses of all the residences we had lived in (each took about a couple of minutes and you could almost sense his brain cells churning thru). But he still cannot remember my brother’s house in Kolkata.
Numerous times, we had people go past us (mostly in bicycles) and then on second thoughts, they would stop. Invariably, it was somebody who realized it was my dad as they went past us and got down from their bikes to come back and talk to us. Many of them were not aware of what dad has gone thru. My dad explained “Porey gechhilam” (“I had fallen down”).
That gave me a chance during my one on one time to explain to him that he had a brain stroke. We found five different spots. And that is why he fell down. And why he is not being able to remember things.
He seemed to be very surprised at this revelation.
“I had a brain stroke?”
“Yes”.
A couple of minutes of silence later…
“Which hospital was I in?”
“2 nights in Kalyani nursing home and then 2 weeks in Peerless Hospital in Kolkata”
“I was in Kolkata?”
“Yes”
“How did I get there?”
“Pinku brought an ambulance from Kolkata” (Pinku is my younger brother)
A few minutes of silence again.
“Eto shoto hoye gechhey aami jaantam na” (I did not realize so much has happened)
“I know”
A minute later, I realized he was trying to raise his neck and look back towards me. Sensing he wanted to ask me something, I lowered my head as I kept pushing him along. Fully expecting the next question “Kobey bhalo hobo baba?” (When will I get better?)
Instead he said “Tor onek poisa khoroch korey fellam na?” Not sure whether I was more irritated or found it to be too funny or something else that at this juncture, he first reaction would be to be apologetic that his illness cost his son a lot of money. But I knew that was the clear marker, the “old” him was trying to come thru and that was a great thing.
I lied thru my teeth. “Insurance is giving all the money back”.
For half a minute he shook his head very satisfactorily.
The evening, much like the wheelchair, rolled on…
26 October
2017
Yesterday was a good day
Dad continues to have some good days and some bad days. Last night was just terrible for him. He kept both mom and me awake with his discomfort. The trick, we have realized, is how much sleep he is able to get. We have not been able to narrow down yet how to get him to sleep (including prescribed medicines).
But before last night, the whole day was a great day. In fact, the best day, in my trip so far. When he woke up at 1PM after a marathon 14 hour sleep, his brain was very active. Surprisingly, he could remember things he had forgotten and could speak coherently more words than normal before petering off into a drawl.
You know how we knew he was in good spirits? The three tell-tale signs were:
(*) He has started worrying about costs!! “How much money did we have to spend?”, “How much insurance will give back?”, you know the typical questions that used to consume him during normal times 🙂
(*) He started cracking jokes!! Somehow, thru this illness, he is obsessed with my shaved head – “Why do you shave your head?”, “Do you do it yourself?” and all that. Yesterday he kept telling the attendants “Matha aachhey chool thaakbey na?” and then followed up with a humorous analogy “Pa aachey aangul thaakbey na?”. (His point being if you have a head, you will have to have hair just like if you have a leg, you are going to have toes!) Go figure!!
(*) He wanted to go our for a stroll in the evening in his wheelchair!! Last few times, I had to coax and cojole him to get out of home. Yesterday, he asked for it!!
We will take as many of these days as we can possibly grab…
26 October
2017
How I met my new Facebook friend but never talked to him
This is an interesting “intersection point” where a friendship was established. But no words were spoken. I am not even sure how to write about somebody that you have not talked to. But here it goes…
I had made a quick dash to Ahmedabad to meet a friend about some work related stuff. In between our meetings, we had strolled over to the Crowne Plaza next door to catch up on some food. We were sitting at our table in some deep discussions, when I realized that the waiter was standing next to me. Instinctively, I told him “Just a glass of water”.
I had almost turned my head away to continue with the discussions when I realized that the reaction from the waiter was not exactly what I was expecting. I turned back and saw him pointing to something hanging from a lanyard around his neck.
That is when I realized that he had no ability to hear or speak.
That is not an everyday experience I go thru. It took me a few seconds for the whole thing to sink in. Meanwhile, he fished out a small diary. Presumably for me to write on. I smiled at him and pointed to my glass. He got the message and went away.
But I was totally distracted the whole time. Multiple times, I saw him helping other guests so seamlessly. Did not betray any signs of shyness. He would interact with every guest with the same level of sincerity and proactivity as he would if he could hear and speak. Except of course, it was happening thru notes on a notepad and finger gesturing.
Finally, I told my friend that I had to meet Hardik again. I signaled him to come to our table. Which he did. And then I was stuck again. How do I ask him questions? How do I tell him that I was totally moved by his courage?
Presuming that I was ready to order, he brought out his notebook again and pointed out to some blank space below what I assume the previous customer had written – “Black Coffee”. Not knowing any better, I drew a long line and wrote “I am very impressed by what you have achieved!” and gave it to him. He read it and looked at me. There was obvious delight in his eyes. He did his namaste thing.
I turned the page and wrote further that if he wanted to be friends with me and chat, he could email me. And gave him my email address. He scribbled something over it. I turned the notebook around to read it.
Want to take a guess what wrote? He wrote – FB?
I am an idiot. What was I thinking giving my email address to a millennial? Facebook it was!!
He himself located his FB profile on my phone and sent himself a friend request!!!
That is how I had a memorable “intersection point” without ever talking!!
This story will not be complete without a shout out for Crowne Plaza, Ahmedabad. I am not sure whether this is a global practice for them or just in India or just in Ahmedabad. In any case, hats off for stepping up to the plate to make this a better and caring society. May your tribe increase.
25 October
2017
The changing times…
It used to be that as the sun rose from the far end of dad’s balcony, I would pace up and down waiting for him to wake up. It used to be that we would have the first cup (or two) of tea together sitting in the balcony and watch the morning unfold.
Not any more…
Now I just want him to sleep peacefully as long as he can.
Perhaps, sensing the void this morning, my mom came and sat down quietly beside me to have our morning tea.
The new normal!!
25 October
2017
My first grade class (home room) teacher!!!
“Thank you for coming all the way from Kolkata to Ernakulam to see me. I feel very special today. Nobody has done that before”.
“No, no, no, that is not how it works”, I quickly responded. “I am the one who is here to say thanks for every way you influenced me when I was barely a few years old. In many ways I am today who I am due some of those early influences”.
“Plus”, I admitted, “You had asked me to come and meet you”.
“I did?”, she asked somewhat confused.
“Ah! You do not remember, do you? I will tell you that story”
That is how the conversation began the moment Mrs. George opened the door. She was my class teacher in first grade. Last time I had talked to her face to face was in 1973. This year, I had tracked her down to a place about 1500 miles away from where we used to be and had promised her that I would come and see her. Especially given the great difficulty she has in moving around (both her knees are shot) and the fact that she is valiantly fighting Parkinson’s, I was determined to make that meeting as quickly as I could.
After she slowly walked to her chair with the help of her cane and I settled next to her, I continued-
“You lived in Aurobindo Avenue. 5th street, right?
“Indeed”
“Back in the mid eighties, there was a girl on 8th street on your road that I used to be romantically linked with. One day, I was coming back from her house, and I ran into another old schoolmate of mine – Soumitro was his name. He lived on your street. He had mentioned that a year or so back, you had realized that he and I had become classmates after leaving your school. And you had asked him to ask me to come and see you if he met me again”.
“Not sure why – I believe I had gone back to my college a few days after that or I was feeling too awkward (and I was plenty awkward those days), I never came and saw you”.
After pausing for a moment, watching her take in the whole story, I finished up:
“Mrs. George”.
“Yes?”
“I know I took too much time. But I have come today and I have kept your request”.
“Thank you!”, she smiled.
“And I brought something for you”
“What?”
That is when I fished out a printout of a photograph I was carrying for her in my backpack.
“Do you remember this?”
“Looks like a class picture during Christmas party”.
“Indeed. Mrs. George! December, 1973!! I want you to keep this picture”.
As you see from the photo below, I spent quite some time naming the students and giving her an update on where they are and what they are doing. Much to my surprise, there were a few names she recognized instantly!!
The rest of the afternoon went remembering so many of our old teachers and me learning about her early childhood days in the rubber plantations near Kottayam district and her days after she left our school.
I got introduced to Mr. George. Mrs. George showed me pictures of her daughters and grandkids. I even got to see a picture of her from her wedding day!!!
If there was one meeting I never wanted to end, it had to be that one. First grade! First class-teacher!! There are still many more memories we did not get a chance to share! But I had two flights to catch before I could get back to my place (there were no direct flights for me). Reluctantly, I took leave.
“Rajib?”
“Yes?”, I looked back at the door where she was standing to say Bye to me.
“What happened to that girl from our road?”. I think she was trying to tease me.
“Oh! I married her!!”.
Going by the big laughter she gave, I did not think she was expecting that answer!
As the Uber guy started our one hour drive back to the airport, I felt a surge of emotional high for being able to see Mrs. George after 44 years to say Thank you. As well as the simultaneous pangs of the inevitable question – Will I be lucky enough to get another chance to finish off a few more stories?
23 October
2017
In Bangalore airport…
On my way to Cochin for a few hours (will write about that later), I found this in the Bangalore airport lounge…
In an attempt to follow instructions, I picked up the basket of muffins and walked away towards my chair. All the while, holding the basket very close to me, mind you!
Three lounge attendants came running after me!!!
22 October
2017
Message received loud and clear.
22 October
2017
Those princely thrones!!
After two relatively good days, today has been a tougher day for dad (and everybody else around him). He has been restless since morning. After lunch, again the nebulizer did the magic. Once his lungs got a boost, he immediately relaxed and went off to sleep. I sat next to him for a few more minutes after he had slept off. And the mind wafted away into all the events and incidents we had together – the various things he has taught me – and so many more that I completely disagreed with him.
One of the topics that he had discussed with me multiple times was money. He had impressed upon me his belief that education was the ticket to financial freedom (and therefore all priorities for a parent is trumped by money spent for their kids’ education). He had explained to me that my financial responsibility was not just to my own family but a far more extended family that had helped him and mother grow up to be who they are.
One of the more curios topics he had dealt with once was the subject of being rich. It stuck in my mind at that moment sitting next to him today because of an incident that actually happened yesterday.
Remember, how I talked about the “bhaiphonta” I had from my sister after 34 long years? Well, when I got “bhaiphonta”s during my teenage years, there were a lot of things I (and my brother) looked forward to… you know those sweets, the samosas, the jilebis – all the good food. We got to wear our new clothes from the Durga Puja. And we got to sit on the “ason”s. Well an “ason” is basically a piece of cloth or other fabric (often even made from tree leaves) that you lay on the floor and then sit on it. The idea, was to avoid the dirt from the floor and perhaps take a wee bit of the hardness of the concrete away.
We had two special “ason”s. Those came out from our almirah only for special guests. (we always sat on the floor to eat). Once in a year, my brother and I would be given the respect owed to special guests and we got to sit on those “ason”s. One was red and yellow and the other was red and blue!! They were more decorative and fluffier than our other standard ones that we used everyday.
Guess what? My mom – in a complete throwback to the late 70s and early 80s, brought out those same two “ason”s from the same almirah for me and my brother before the “bhaiphonta” ceremony started yesterday!! I was stunned beyond belief!!
“E dutokey ekhono biday koroni?” (You have not gotten rid of these two yet?)
Mom did not even bother replying.
All my years I have known my dad and mom, one thing I have never seen them doing is get rid of things. Even when they donate to others, it is always new things. But what they use, they will continue to use till that thing can literally turn into dirt or something. My dad had exactly two shirts all his life. And one pair of shoes – which I am totally convinced that he spent more money on the cobbler in twenty years or so fixing various parts than a second pair of shoe would have cost him to begin with. You might remember that a few trips back, I had found out that they still use my tiffin (lunch) box from elementary school!!!
But his DNA was wired that way. He never minded helping others. But he hated from the core of his heart the concept of wasting. And avoiding waste to him meant you keep repairing the stuff till you cannot repair any more!!
Coming back to vthat discussion I had with dad about being rich – it actually had started on a humorous note. I was pulling his leg and had complained that I could have been a rich guy if I had a rich dad and gave him examples of a few people who inherited a lot of money. For a moment, dad was quiet. I thought I had scored a point. Then he came back with a scorcher… “Well, you could not have chosen your father. But you could have chosen your father-in-law”. Implying marrying into riches was totally in my control unlike being born into riches.
Once I had stopped laughing conceding the point, he had turned serious and philosophically remarked – which translated to English would roughly be – “Being rich is a function of two variables. Never forget that you can control one variable much more than the other”.
And it was that belief of his that allowed me to sit in the same cherished “ason” after 34 years yesterday!!!
