“I really don’t care. Order something”. That was my lackadaisical response to my brother’s query “What do you want to eat?” as we started settling down at our table at Pan Asian restaurant at ITC Sonar hotel. And therefore, that is what he did. The usual Bengali favorites of hakka noodles, fried rice, manchurian gobi and so on. I was more focused on spending time with him than what I was going to eat that evening.

Something curious happened in the next couple of minutes. Just as the waiter had started walking away, my brother called him back “Ektu salad diye jaaben?” (“Can you get us some salad?”). Very proud of my brother that he was eating his vegetables – and obviously caught in a location context warp as I realized later, I commended him for eating leaves and vegetables. Ever concerned of his health, I enquired about whether he was focusing on the proper dressing too (stay away from the creamy ones, you know).

He stared at me blankly. “Maaney?” (“What are you talking about?”). It took me a couple of seconds to recognize what had happened. You see, in India, “salad” really means a plate of condiments – usually comprising of sliced cucumbers, onions and tomatoes and sometimes carrots and even green chillies with salt sprinkled all over. The sophisticated places might even give you beet-salt.

Chuckling inside, I told him that he should try and eat green vegetables too.
“Knacha ghaas paata khabo?”, he asked indignantly. (“You want me to eat raw leaves and grass?”). I replied in the affirmative explaining how our digestive systems cannot digest cellulose and therefore those leaves are great as fiber for roughage and bowel movements. Other than the obvious source of vitamins.

Thoroughly unimpressed, he dismissed me saying “Amader deshe ogulo goru-tey khay”. (“Here in India, cows eat such stuff”).

“The health benefits of leaves and vegetable salads are well documented”, I persisted.

He gave it some consideration and then burst my balloon. “Toder deshe-r kota goru-r khub bhalo figure?”. (“How many cows in your country are proud of their figures?”).

I gave up and started digging into the salted cucumber and tomato slices that had arrived at our table. Ooh! They were very tasty 🙂

What the 6km run in 90%+ humidity and 90 degrees Fahrenheit giveth,
The Luchi-aloor-dum-begun-bhaja-aloo-bhaja-makhamaara-sondesh breakfast promptly taketh away.

If it is not deeply fried or dripping in sugar, we don’t serve it for breakfast at our house 🙂

The real irony? My dad thinks I should save my knees and stop running. This, from somebody who has had a heart attack and suffers from sugar and kidney issues!!!

So, when I ask my parents to pose for a picture, they put up their stiff grim faces on. Today I taught my niece (their grand daughter, my sister’s daughter) how to operate the camera in my phone and asked her to go take some pictures of my parents.

She had them eating out of her hands. Look at the picture. My dad has not a clue what he is doing but he is trying his best to copy the V sign his granddaughter taught him to flash when she took a picture of them!!! 🙂

And if I had tried that? “Dekh-ge ja”, he would have said. 🙂

The best part is undoubtedly sitting with dad early in the morning in the patio watching the dawn unfold with the birds waking up … Absolutely with no spoken words between us except pouring tea for each other.

The second best is sitting in the evening with my siblings and brother in law with some cocktails made by yours truly. The photographer here is my niece and she had strict instructions on what our poses needed to be 🙂

Made a couple of cocktails at my sister’s home today. Before long, the sum total of singing talent (or lack thereof) of my brother-in-law, brother and myself were brought to the fore by an engaging three hour Antakshari (it is a duel of songs where you have to start a song with the same letter as the last letter of the previous singer’s song’s first stanza).

We would have continued with the rampage had it not been time for me to jump onto office calls with US…