20 May 2014

I wish you enough

“I wish you enough!”Β©
By Bob Perks
I never really thought that I’d spend as much time in airports as I do. I don’t know why. I always wanted to be famous and that would mean lots of travel. But I’m not famous, yet I do see more than my share of airports.

I love them and I hate them. I love them because of the people I get to watch. But they are also the same reason why I hate airports. It all comes down to “hello” and “goodbye.”I must have mentioned this a few times while writing my stories for you.

I have great difficulties with saying goodbye. Even as I write this I am experiencing that pounding sensation in my heart. If I am watching such a scene in a movie I am affected so much that I need to sit up and take a few deep breaths. So when faced with a challenge in my life I have been known to go to our local airport and watch people say goodbye. I figure nothing that is happening to me at the time could be as bad as having to say goodbye.

Watching people cling to each other, crying, and holding each other in that last embrace makes me appreciate what I have even more. Seeing them finally pull apart, extending their arms until the tips of their fingers are the last to let go, is an image that stays forefront in my mind throughout the day.

On one of my recent business trips, when I arrived at the counter to check in, the woman said, “How are you today?” I replied, “I am missing my wife already and I haven’t even said goodbye.”

She then looked at my ticket and began to ask, “How long will you…Oh, my God. You will only be gone three days!” We all laughed. My problem was I still had to say goodbye.

But I learn from goodbye moments, too.

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and he said, “I love you. I wish you enough.” She in turn said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.”

They kissed and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say goodbye to someone knowing it would be forever?”

“Yes, I have,” I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.

So I knew what this man experiencing.

“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever goodbye?” I asked.

“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back would be for my funeral,” he said.

“When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, “I wish you enough.” May I ask what that means?”

He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.” He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.”When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he
were reciting it from memory.

“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Goodbye.”

He then began to sob and walked away.

My friends, I wish you enough!

19 May 2014

Enjoying the evening with the inlaws

Getting to know the inlaws’ history. We lit a fire outside, sat in the rains and traced my mother-in-law’s history. Armed with Google Maps, Wikipedia and the Search engine on the iPad, I have tracked down her pre-K school in Humgorh (remote village in Midnapur district), middle school in Khardaha and high school in Barrackpore. She is stunned by the satellite images of her school.

Made another promise. When I go to drop them in India, I will make sure she can go back in history and actually see her schools about six decades later !!!

There are indeed more moments to be created !!!

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18 May 2014

From the bartender’s corner – Chilcano

This one is dedicated to you Jim Giannakakis!! Most favorite summer drink in Peru, there is a whole week in Jan (summer in Peru) that is celebrated as Chilcano week!

Ingredients include Pisco, ginger ale, fresh lime juice, optional simple syrup, angostura bitters and a lime wedge garnishing.

Very refreshing!!

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18 May 2014

FIL-MIL Mehfil (Bengali alert)

I had barely entered our house after the run in the rain this morning, when my mother in law started berating me. She looked me up and down, sized me up and asked
“Bristi-tey na hNatlei hochhilo na?”. (** did you have to go for a walk in this rain? **).

As you can imagine, like every self-righteous runner, I took total umbrage at her lack of confidence in me.
“hNatchhilam maaney? jeev baar korey aat minute-e mile dnourolam aar seta-key aapni hNata bolchhen?” (** Who you calling went for a walk? We panted our hearts out as we put in eight minute miles – and you think that was walking? **)

She somewhat relented.
“hNato aar dour-ou. Ei jhomjhomey bristitey aar keramati na dekhalei to hoto”. (** walking or running – what was the big need to show off in the rain? **)

I took the philosophical route – (btw, all throughout my childhood, I had addressed her as Masi – word usually used to address your mom’s sister – and I still call her Masi. Conversely, I call my father in law Kaku – usually used to address your dad’s brother)
“Masi”, I said “bristi-tey prokriti-r oporup rup dekhechhen? Sobuj gaach, chhoto nodi, jhomjhomey bristi, er moto o-kritrim soundorjo hoy? Na poisa laagey, na ticket kaat-tey hoy. Chhotobela-thekey to ma-masi-ra miley konodin bristitey berutey dilen na. Ekhon boro hoyechhi. Ekhon bristi-tey bhijey, jeev baar korey bristi-r jol na khele aar kobey khabo?” (** Mam, have you ever seen the resplendent beauty of nature as the green trees get soaked in glistening raindrops and the rivulets scurry along in heavy showers? You do not need money nor do you need any privilege to enjoy the pure natural beauty of rainfall. All throughout our childhood, you all moms and aunts, never let us go out and play in the rain. Now I am a grown up. If I cannot go stand in the rain and stick might tongue out to find out what it tastes like, when will I ever do it? **)

Thoroughly unimpressed, she said “Aar shorir bhengey porley ki hobey? Tokhon to Sharmila-kei dekhtey hobey” (** And what will happen when your health breaks down? Sharmila has to look after you, right? **).

By now, I was getting an idea about where this was all leading to. It was all about her daughter. Whatever I do, I should not create any more work for her!!! Now that I knew what the game was that I was up against, I knew how to play it. Completely avoided her line of argument and picked up the philosophy bit a notch higher…
“Aa-ha maasi, bhangtei jodi na dyan to notun korey gore-bo ki korey?” (** Mam, if you do not let me break it, how will I ever get a chance to build it anew? **)

Philosophy has nothing on an irate mother in law. “Beshi fyach fyach koro-na-to” boley uni gojgoj kortey kortey nijer room-e choley gelen πŸ™‚
(she asked me to stop blabbering and stormed away to her bedroom constantly muttering under her breath) πŸ™‚

18 May 2014

The Three Idiots

The Chalupa group took a collective timeout this morning. All except three certifiably crazy members. It was raining incessantly and the temperatures had dropped to an unseasonal 50 degrees. The trail was wet, with a lot of water puddles and deceptively slippery.

Giving us company in the otherwise desolate trail were a couple walking their dog and a high school girl out running without her regular Sunday morning school team. Samaresh and I came prepared – at least I had full sleeves on while Samaresh had full rain gear. Manas, on the other hand, came in his patented Sunday morning light T shirt. When I asked him if he was worried, the every funny and self-deprecating Manas pointed to his prospering mid-portion and said “I am my own protection”!. It hurt my sides, I laughed so hard.

I wish I had carried my phone with me. There were some unbelievably beautiful sights of rain falling on the treetops, the small rivulets, the big creeks and all the leaves glistening in the overnight rain that I wished I had captured.

At the end of the run, as we synchronized our “Atchoos”, and collectively cleared our noses (I know. Gross. You see. “Thanda legey gechhey”), we wanted to give a full throated message to our fellow Chalupa- runners – “Alllll Eeeeeez Welllll” πŸ™‚

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16 May 2014

FIL-MIL Mehfil

The inlaws have been awake for most of the night. They have been watching NDTV on iPad following the Indian election results.

This morning at 7 am, they were still crouched against the iPad. And were constantly discussing something. So, I made coffee for all of us and came and sat down with them. Following their conversations, I realized something. They had very little real interest in the grand spectacle of the world’s largest democracy’s seminal moment of change of guard!

All they cared about is “What is happening to Didi’s party”? Didi, for the West Bengal (or for that matter any Bengal)-y challenged, is the affectionate name for Mamata Banerjee – the Chief Minister of West Bengal. Who, not unlike what is happening in India today, came to power two and a half years back after uprooting a party that was in power in West Bengal for multiple decades.

So, I asked them how much they cared about Congress versus BJP versus AAP at the Center. My father in law at least tried to show some interest – “Kono party onek din thaka bhalo na” (**nobody should be in power for too long**). My mother in law, in a perfect tribute to the old adage “all politics is local”, completely brushed me off – “taatey aamar ki eshe gelo” (**what is that to me?**) πŸ™‚

As they kept discussing “Didi’s party”, I also realized something else. A lot of Bengali singers and actors have stood for elections this year. I had no idea that Bappi Lahiri (think of him as the Bengali version of Chris Christie with far more skills in copying other people’s tunes), Babul Supriyo, Munmun Sen, Soumitro Roy, Sandya Roy and such are political figures now. No wonder there is so much drama in West Bengal politics!

Since my mother in law would not pay any attention to me, I decided to push my luck. “Mamata-di ki korechhe aaj porjonto? Opposition-e chellano aar desh chalano alaada bepar”. Now, before I translate this, let me tell you – I have nary an idea about what is going on in West Bengal. I certainly cannot name you one more politician in West Bengal other than Didi. Armed with that near total ignorance, I took a potshot “What has she done till today? Shouting at the top of your voice while in Opposition is very different from running a country”.

My father in law knew me all too well. He just smiled and refused to take the bait. My mother in law? Not so much!! Like the normally docile garden snake that our lawn mower guy spotted and cornered on our street a couple of days back hissed and fought back in defense, my mother in law immediately raised her hood errr…. head and hit back. “Tomra sobjanta to”. (basically calling me know-all).

Then for the next twenty minutes I got a lecture on all the misdeeds of the previous government that held absolute power for multiple decades and how they had completely corrupted the system. And how it took somebody like Didi to fight back and “throw them into the Bay of Bengal”. “Ki sahos dekh onar” (**what courage she has**)

Which is interesting. For all the courage of Mamata-di she was projecting, my mother in law – who, in a rich irony, has the same name Mamata – has been cooped up inside our house for two days straight because of reports of a garden snake that our lawn mower guy spotted on our street πŸ™‚

Second cup of coffee, anyone? πŸ™‚