1 July 2016

It is always fun confusing your mother in law….

My mother in law, who is totally against drinking alcohol and certainly absolutely against me inducing my father in law to drink is almost always a picture of confusion every time we have dinner together. I ordered a mocktail (non alcoholic) for her and when the drink came, I casually mentioned that she might like the alcohol in that drink and that I was quite sure she had not tried it before. You can see her protestations and refusal to drink.

Then my brother – who had stepped out to take a call – came in and made a short shrift of my lie. You can see my mother in law’s reaction in the next picture. In fact, we had to get a second one!!

image

1 July 2016

Sameer-da! My tabla teacher!!

Continuing with meeting up with my old teachers, the next one was a change of pace. I had been looking for Sameer-da who taught me “tabla” during my fifth and sixth grade for a very long time. I got a lucky break last time when I was in India. Do you remember the blind lady (Sundori-di) that I had gone to meet? (http://www.rajibroy.com/?p=10121). You probably also remember that she plays an instrument called the sitar. Thru her association with the School of Music in Durgapur, I was able to trace Sameer-da’s whereabouts.

A month later, I had called up that number in India. The voice on the other end was unmistakably his. Even though I was hearing the voice well over three decades, I was quite sure that it was him. The question was would he remember me?

“Sameer-da, aami Rajib Roy bolchhi. Aami aapnar kaachhey tabla siktham. Chintey paarchhen?”. I basically introduced myself as one of his students and asked if he could remember me.

His immediate response was “Soma-r dada Rajib? America thekey bolchho?”. Meaning “Are you the Rajib who is Soma’s brother? Are you calling from America?”.

My sister and I started learning music together. She continued for a long time. I gave up after two years. At that time, I was not too much into it. Today, that is one of my biggest regrets. I discovered my love for tabla after going to engineering school. I wish I had continued with formal coaching for a few more years. By the way, convincing my father that I wanted to stop learning tabla was very easy. I just manipulated him by saying that it was distracting me from my studies (remember how he wanted me to be an engineer or doctor? :-). My mom, on the other hand had suggested that I cut down on my playing time ๐Ÿ™‚

Sameer-da used to teach me tabla as well as accompany my sister’s music teacher. Later in life, he had become close to our family but I had left Durgapur way before that.

Finally we pulled up in front of his house – and that took us some time since he lives in a village outside Durgapur town. Google maps had failed me already and finally, I had to resort to asking people on the streets. Of whom there were not a lot since it was late at night – 9PM and it had just rained. However, when I saw him, I could not believe my eyes. Sameer-da has not changed a bit. Not even one fraction of a bit. You can see him in the picture. He is 61 years old. And he can as easily pass by as a twenty-something!!!

That was one of the best meetings I have had in a long time. I had no idea about his own family history. Got to know how he was one of five kids. How all his brothers would go out and play in the remote village he was brought up in but he was more attracted by the sound of tabla that his dad used to play. Eventually, that love became his passion and then his profession.

And it still is his passion and profession!! We talked for some time about some of the intricacies of tabla – the instrument as well as the playing. Lamentably enough, I learnt that there is not much of interest left in Durgapur to learn tabla. Apparently, studies, western music and parents wanting their kids to get onto stage in rapid time has taken over the psyche. Unfortunately, tabla is one of those instruments that takes a lot of time to get the hang of and a whole lot more practice and perseverance before you can get on to stage.

But for most part, we talked about our families. I got to know about his son and daughter – none of whom I have ever seen and also caught up on mu sister’s music teacher!

He in turn, talked about my parents’ generosity. I did not realize this but apparently my parents had helped him when he was going thru some tough times in his personal life. He even showed me the set of tabla my dad had gifted him much later and he still has preserved it and plays it occasionally.

Although I gave up my formal lessons two years into it, I did impress him by mentioning that I do sit down to play by myself (terribly, I might add) every Friday. He in fact, quizzed me on a few taals and songs. I lucked out and came thru with flying colors. I think he went easy on me!!

image

1 July 2016

Bhowmic miss! Or as we called her – “Geography miss”

After visiting Mr. and Mrs. Roy, the next stop was to cover my next favorite subject – Geography! Fortunately, I have been in touch with Mrs. Bhowmic for some time – although I had seen her only once in the last thirty years or so. She is even on my Facebook friends list.

Mrs. Bhowmic and geography has been synonymous to many of us. For students like me, learning geography started with Mrs. Bhowmic in 7th grade and finished with her in 10th grade. My dad and she are the two persons in this world responsible for my loving world geography to this day. My dad, even now, will pepper you with questions like capitals of countries and river names and all that if you do not have your guard up. Mrs. Bhowmic, fortunately, focuses on more varied topics!

But there was another side of Mrs. Bhowmic. She was my classmate’s mom too. Her son Abhik and I were classmates for six years in the same school. So, I got to know the family a lot more closely than that of most other teachers. And that connection, as I said has continued till today.

Many of you who know me from much later stages of life will find this incredulous but I used to have a head full of hair. And very thick too!! (I know, I know this one is for Ripley’s Believe It Or Not ๐Ÿ™‚ ). In any case, Geography miss used to often comment about that in the class. And she brought it up last night when I went to meet her again!!

Another lasting memory I have from those days was my annual exam in seventh grade. While appearing for my Geography test, I came down with typhoid. I started shivering two thirds into the time period and managed to somehow finish it up. I remember that my vision had become blurry and I was struggling to keep my head up. Eventually, I gave up. The next thing I knew was I was lying down in our principal’s room, our PT teacher had thrown his jacket on me (I was shivering a lot) and Mrs. Bhowmic was next to me. Then I blanked out.

Couple of weeks later, I was back from the hospital, still very weak and mostly in bed. My dad came into the room after having visited the principal. He was worried that I would not be promoted to the next grade since I missed all but three of my annual exams. (We needed minimum marks for the whole year but I had no chance of clearing it). Fortunately, our principal told him to quit worrying. When he was there, he ran into Bhowmic miss. And as my dad narrated it, apparently she had said “Aapnar chhele to jor niye-o geography-te first hoye gelo” (basically, I had lucked out and topped the test that year). So, I told my dad that I wanted to be a geologist when I grew up. He told me – No, you have to be an engineer or a doctor. And that was that ๐Ÿ™‚

It was so great to see her after such a long time. I got to know a little more about her personal life and the circumstances under which we lost Mr. Bhowmic at a very early age due to misdiagnosis. But what was most teachable for me is her spirit of fighting it out. She still lives her own independent life and keeps up with teaching.

I have always considered – right from our school days – that Mrs. Bhowmic has been one of my most ardent supporters and cheerleaders. She still is today. If nobody puts a “like” on my FB posts, she would be sure to go put one!!

image

1
1 July 2016

Sir Roy and Deepali Miss

One of the goals for this trip has been to meet some of my teachers from school days that I have not seen in a long time. First and foremost was to find Sir Roy. He was my math teacher for 9th and 10th grade as well as my class teacher for ninth grade. Not that I was particularly great at math but it was undoubtedly one of my most favorite subjects (and still is). (Geography and Physics were the next two). I still love the logical thinking required in math problems and puzzles. Sir Roy and Sir Nandi were the two teachers that I remember the most for instilling in me the love for math.

Sir Roy, to all of us, was not just a math teacher. He was our go to person anytime we got into trouble in school and almost always could count on him to be our friend, philosopher and guide. Two of the lasting memories I have of him was his constant smoking and always reading an English novel. He was undoubtedly one of the most voracious readers I knew.

In the circle that life is, last year, one of my classmates’ (from school days) twin daughters had called me from India with a math problem. I was driving (in US) and promised to look into it when I reached home. Funnily enough, before I put the phone down, I had suddenly remembered a method (of elimination) Sir Roy had taught and was able to solve it for her verbally over the phone. My wife thought I had gone crazy drawing triangles on the steering wheel while standing at a traffic light!

I had fixed the time and place to meet Sir Roy. It was not his place but rather where he still teaches his students (he is retired from school now). The best news he gave me was that Deepali miss was there too. Mrs. Roy – who we always called “Deepali miss” was one of the first teachers I had met in fifth grade after joining my new school (St. Xavier’s). In fact, I think sequentially it was Miss Lakshmi Dutta, Sir Donegan and then Mrs. Deepali Roy. So that would have been precisely at 9:55 am on 10th of January, 1977 when she walked in and introduced herself as our Bengali teacher.

I remember her being very sweet to all of us and not being very strict with us (as opposed to Miss Dutta and Sir Donegan from the previous two periods ๐Ÿ™‚ ). Certainly, we were not above taking advantage of it ๐Ÿ™‚

One amusing incident. Miss Dutta taught us math and was very strict. In our math test, I remember that I had made a error. And so had my friend Shounak. But my friend had smartly answered one question more than he needed to. (we had to solve 10 out 11 problems and he did all 11). He got credit for that and beat me in that test. Not to be outdone, I tried the same trick in our Bengali test. Except that Deepali miss promptly canceled my last answer and told me that I should focus on revising my answers instead of wasting time on questions I did not answer!! Boy, was I confused that day!!! ๐Ÿ™‚

Both Mr. and Mrs. Roy left indelible marks on me and in many ways has shaped and formed me who I am today. It was energizing to see them after such a long time (some 33 years) together and talk about our old days in school and get caught up on a few of the other teachers.

image

1
30 June 2016

Another morning of discussions

Today he talked about religion. I am aware that this can be a very divisive topic among my readers – so I am not going to expound on it. I will say that I was superbly impressed on how his views on various religions as well as atheists has become nuanced over the years. His bed is strewn with various religious books – you can see the Gita, a Bible, some books on Ramakrishna lying next to his inhaler and medicines!

One humorous anecdote. He talked about Ramakrishnaโ€™s famous saying โ€œTaka maati, maati taakaโ€ (which basically denounces the focus on money – saying wealth is dirt, dirt is wealth). At this point, I interjected. To bring in levity I asked โ€œThen why were you complaining that the banks are not increasing their interest rates for you?โ€.

Not to be outdone, he continued with the same flow – โ€œEtar abaar onno ekta interpretation-o hoy. Taaka thaakley maati – orthat jomi kintey paarbey. Abar sei jomir daam baarley aaro taaka paabeyโ€.

He gave another – and a rather convenient interpretation. He said, if you have money, we can buy dirt (land) and then as the price of land goes up, you make more money.

I think I can deal with that religion ๐Ÿ™‚ It was good to see that he has not lost his sense of humor!!

image

30 June 2016

It is always about the bottomline!!

My dad, given his background, is ever worried about money. I remember my childhood days when he would try to cut as many corners as he could and fight for as many deals as he could get so as to save some more money. The only exception was education. When it came to the education of the three kids, he was ready to make the family go without food but he had to make sure we went to the best schools, bought all the books etc etc. Sometimes he would take it almost to an extreme. While it was very irritating then, I have a better perspective because I understand his background better. But sometimes it creates some funny situations. Like this morning.

I was lacing up to go for my run. My dad, again started admiring the running shoes. I asked him what did he like specifically. โ€œGothhon ta khub sundor. Rong ta bhari sundorโ€, he said. (He liked the structure and especially the colors)

I figured he would like to see my other colorful shoes. So, I fished out an old blog entry from my website and showed him my collection of colorful (and not so colorful) shoes. (picture attached). It took him some time to realize these are all my own shoes. And that I canโ€™t use any of them for running after 300-400 miles. Therefore I have to go thru about three or four pairs every year.

He looked at all the shoes and went โ€œBaapreโ€ฆ baapreโ€ฆ baapreโ€ฆ baapreโ€ฆ. baapreโ€ฆโ€ like a recurring decimal. (Baapre is the septuagenarianโ€™s equivalent of โ€œOMGโ€ ).

I was then expecting him make some comments about all the different colors I have or even the sheer number of shoes I have accumulated. Instead, he quickly cut to the chase by summarizing the situation to its lowest common denominator. As he handed my phone back to me, he said โ€œLakh takar opor juto aacheyโ€!

(Roughly means – There are shoes worth 100,000 rupees – but the translation does not bring out the essence at all)

image

29 June 2016

That was (almost) a new side to my dad!

This morning’s three hour long conversation with dad (he spoke most of the time) was a little eye opener for me. Usually, the conversations become so negative about general state of affairs or a littany of his worries for my brother and sister that I politely find some excuse to do something else after fifteen minutes or at least attempt to force a change of topic abruptly.

Today was somewhat different. In fact, this trip has been somewhat different. It started the usual negative way. It was about he not wanting to live any more. Why are other young people dying and not somebody like him who is ready to leave now? But quickly he gathered himself and looked at me and said – “You are the eldest son of the house. After my death, you will be in charge. Let me tell you my three wishes after death.”

I was pretty sure he was going to bring up a few topics known to irritate me but I hung on. And I was glad I did. I learnt something.

Point 1.
“Do not do any ceremonial things after my death”, he said. “Just cremate me and next day each one of you go back to your office and school. There is no need to call all relatives and friends and go thru the motions of shraddho”. (This is part of Hindu rituals after somebody’s death). “I have had a good life and there is nothing sad about me leaving the world. Don’t even try to shave your heads.” (again, this is a Hindu ritual for sons when their dads pass away). And then looking at me he said “Oboshyo, tomar byapar-ta alaada”. (‘You, of course, are a special case :-)’).

I was internally going – “Now we are talking”!! I absolutely believe in what he said. He had a humble beginning and did what most folks always dream of – raising three successful kids and their families. He overcame a lot of odds in his life. He certainly set an example to three of his kids. When he leaves us, we can say with certainty that he was absolutely ready to. He fought hard till he could live life in his own terms. Such is a life to be celebrated not mourned after he passes away. I will drink to that!

Point 2.
“With the money saved from not having to do all the perfunctory ceremonies, donate that money to Mother Teresa’s orphanage”. He went on to let me know how in his ripe old years, he has come to the conclusion that we do not do enough about orphans. He asked me rather rhetorically – “Those kids, at least the orphanages will take care of them when they are very young. After that what? How are they going to get a chance in this world. Our own kids, after so much money spent on education cannot find jobs. How are those kids going to eat? Who is going to take care of them?”

He then told me about an incident that has come back to visit him in his memories repeatedly over the last few years. The one time he went to America, apparently, Sharmila had taken him to a Walmart and there he saw a couple with four kids. He was confused why two of them had the same skin color as them and the other two were completely different. Sensing his confusion, Sharmila had told them two of them were adopted. That is why they were different but calling “dad” and “mom” to the same persons.

As an aside here, I need to mention that adoption runs in our family too. In fact, my niece – who you saw having “foochkas” with me yesterday is adopted. My sister and brother in law adopted her from Mother Teresa’s orphanage after their natural process of having kids did not yield results.

Reminding me of my sister, my father continued “Your sister adopted because that was their only option left. That family I saw in America – and it has taken me a long time to process this – did not do it because they needed to. They did it because they wanted to. Giving a kid – with an otherwise assured dead end – a gift of life – I cannot think of a higher human virtue. Especially when you already have your own kids”.

I was too stunned to say anything.

After a few more moments, he lowered his head and continued – almost as if was uttering the words as the thoughts came to his mind “I know America is rich. But money can buy affordability. I have my doubts if money buys generosity. I had to wait till very late in my life to realize that I had a good shot at financial stability. Looking back, had I known that I will be the way I am today, I probably should have adopted an orphan. That should have been my duty.”

For a brief moment, he slipped into his negative mode. “Why is our government not putting efforts to increase awareness? We have quotas for education and jobs for so many people. I have nothing against that. Why not for a few more who have next to no chance to get a shot at life?”

That forty five minutes hit me very hard. People who know me are probably aware of how violently I am aligned to his points of views (save the government part). Having spent some time volunteering for an organization dedicated to battered women and kids, I came to see up close and personal how bleak the other side is.

Fortunately, I have seen the other side too. I have friends who have adopted kids – some after having their own and some without. I have friends (I have written about one of them) who have adopted from multiple countries and in one case – with specific medical issues because they could afford the treatment in US for them (among other things). I even have a friend from Dallas who (she and her husband) had explained to me before they got married that they were not going to have their own kids – instead they were going to adopt kids.

“Because there are more needy kids than caring parents in this world”, they had told me. I had an immediately flashback to that coffee meeting many many moons back as my dad kept talking.

Point 3.
His final point was something he said he got inspired by a story of a lady he read in the newspaper. Apparently, the lady who died of a terminal illness donated both her kidneys and because of that two other patients got their lives back.

“Even though she is dead, she is truly immortal. It is true that when I die, I am gone. I have no more use for my body parts. If any of those body parts can help somebody live or have a better life, why is there even a question about it? Why is this not the automatic mode?”

For another few seconds, he fell back to his favorite punching bag – “Why is our government not raising our awareness on this? Why are they not making it easy for us to do this?”

“My kidneys are failing. My lungs are at 40%. But I might have other parts – maybe my eyes – they are weak but not gone. Can they help a blind man get eyesight?”

Now, my understanding, while sketchy, is that it may not be as difficult or little known as he thinks it is in India. My general impression is that it might be less prevalent but it is easy to become donors. What I am not aware of is how good is the process of ensuring that the parts are secured within the stipulated period of time and all that. I think I need to discuss this more with my friends in India and then with him again.

Regardless of that, I could not agree more with him about how not to accept death as the final arbiter of how long we can be productive human beings. We can – in some parts – outlive death, if we so choose to. In a very noble way, to boot.

He was tired after three hours. He finally went back to sleeping in his cot.

I got up from my chair realizing again that the apple never fell too far from the tree!!!

image

2
29 June 2016

Nikispeak: What is a foochka? (golgappa or paanipuri for others)

Before going to bed, I was catching up with the two daughters. Nikita, of course, wanted to chat for a long time and get all the details of my day. She is fairly curious that way – especially if that can distract her from all the homework and chores her mom has given her ๐Ÿ™‚

When I had just come to the point of “I went to have foochkas”, she interrupted me…

“What is a foochka?” Before I could try to explain, she remembered something and continued…

“Oh! Isn’t that the thing where you poke a hole and have with really yucky water?”

And for good measure, added.. “No offense”

๐Ÿ™‚

29 June 2016

Notice something funny with my mom’s phone dialpad?

As it is my mom is completely oblivious of all the advances in phone technology. She does not even look up the address book to call somebody. She has no idea how to increase the volume while on a call. The only thing she has been trained to do is press the buttons (stemming from her land line days) and wait for the other person.

Even that, looking at her phone, how she does it, I do not know. Looking at her keypad, I can only conclude that she has never attempted to make an outbound call!! And she has had this phone for at least a couple of years!!

image