31 October
2017
31 October
2017
That was an uncommon name in the list…
Upon entering Delhi airport last night, I was glancing thru the list of flights on the boards to see where I was supposed to go and finish my check in for the Lufthansa flights. Somehow, among all those flights listed in three big boards, my eyes got arrested on one line.
“Durgapur”!!! My small old town has flights going from Delhi!! I was aware of a new airport and I think there are very limited number of flights going there (one? two?) but I had never seen Durgapur’s name up their on those flight boards.
That was a random moment from this trip – but one of somehow great satisfaction. Not sure why?
Maybe a throw back to those good old days when we – the three siblings- were all below 10 and used to play imaginary airplane games in our backyard?
Like I said – felt good though!!
31 October
2017
That is nuts. Errr… I mean coconuts…
Walked up to the empty Lufthansa counter to check in for my flight back and did my usual small talk with the young lady at the counter – you know “How long have you been with Lufthansa?”, “Are you from Delhi” and all that. And in the middle of that I yelled “Whoa!”.
She looked at me inquisitively.
I was still staring at the memo listing the stuff I cannot have in my checked in luggage!! After glancing thru the usual list of dangerous things, I came to a screeching halt when I saw the picture of a coconut!
Coconut??
Coconut?????
Why is the coconut in the list?
What did the poor coconut do? When is the last time a terrorist threatened national security with a errrrr…. coconut?
On an aside, WHO is carrying coconuts in their carry on luggage?
P.S. I am no expert, but I assume the shape of a grenade and the water inside has something to do with triggering the alarm system? But why ban even the half-coconut? (Look at the picture). Again, I do not know why anybody would want to carry half coconuts in their checked in luggage either…
30 October
2017
These goodbyes are not getting any easier….
Every three months for the last five years, we have gone thru the same routine. He would have sadness writ all over his face but mom would still brave a smile as they waved me good bye from the gate downstairs and I headed out to the airport to my family in Atlanta. As routine as it was, it never ceased to give me a lump in my throat. My brother (always the chauffeur) would keep quiet for 10 minutes and give me the space to get used to the moment.
Then my dad lost ability to move much. But he would come downstairs and sit in a chair way ahead of time and wait for me so as to not lose a chance to wave me goodbye. I would again choke up.
Next, he stopped coming down. (The last trip was that way to) He would simply lie in his bed and nod his head. Holding back tears was incredibly tough. I knew he wanted to come down but physically he could not. I used to squeeze his hand just to let him know that I understood.
Now, we are in the phase, where he has no idea that I already left. He got up for ten minutes in the morning, spoke to me incoherently and then went back to sleep. I took a lot of pictures of him. All of them look exactly the same. At the back of my mind, I am aware that this might well be the last time and I wanted to capture ever micro second if I could. Even if they are repeats.
First time ever, my mom is not smiling as she bade adieu all by herself.
A new era is dawning upon us…
30 October
2017
Have you seen this before?
30 October
2017
Is there such a word? What do you think?
Back in 1977, Kelvin Donegan was our English teacher. With his blonde hair, fair skin, smart dress, sharp goatee and a motorcycle to boot – we, the fifth graders, were in awe of him.
When he said something, we listened. And remembered.
One day that year, one of my classmates (I forget who it was) had used the phrase “bus stoppage” in one of those “make sentence” exercises. “Bus stoppage” was (and I suspect still is) very commonly used in Bengal. Not sure of outside Bengal.
In any case, Sir Donegan had firmly told us that there was no such thing as “Bus Stoppage”. That is a made up word by Bengalis. Ever since, I got used to saying and writing “Bus Stop”.
While being driven to the airport a couple of days back, I noticed this sign along EM Bypass (these have been put up for the FIFA Under 17 World Cup being held in Kolkata).
I realized that “Bus Stoppage” is still alive and kicking in Bengal.
Just to be sure, quickly checked Google. Apparently, “stoppage” is a perfectly good word. But looks like “Bus Stoppage” may not be.
Any opinions out there?
30 October
2017
Very successful year in meeting my old class (home room) teachers
This year, I have been able to locate and visit 9 out of 10 of my home room teachers. They are strewn all over India. Each search was very satisfying (of course after the frustration of numerous false leads). In the end, being able to say “Thank you” to each and every one of them face to face has been an unforgettable experience! As I have maintained before, they were crucial influences in my formative years. I have no doubt that without their combined influence, I would not be who I am.
I am left with only one teacher from seventh grade – Mrs. Srinivasan. This one is going to be very tough. She was there only for a very short duration. I remember many of the events from her class. But so far, I have found only two persons (both teachers) who even remember that there was such a person. Will keep searching…
Meanwhile, time to move on to the subject teachers then!!
30 October
2017
Some random fun with my new best friend from last evening…
29 October
2017
Small enigmas all around you in India
29 October
2017
The choice was clear..
The risk was that if I missed my flight back, I would surely miss my long haul back home to US. The opportunity was that my eighth grade class teacher had just moved to Siliguri and if I could align all my flights, I had a window of opportunity of about an hour and a half to see her. After 1980. That is almost 38 years if you are keeping count.
After much dilly dallying, I decided to take the risk. How cool would it be for me to say that in one single calendar year, I met 9 out of 10 of my home room teachers of my life? (The tenth one is a very different equation; more on her later). Plus my goal for this trip to India was to take care of my dad and with any extra time, I was to meet my old teachers.
That decision took me to a flight to Bagdogra and then a pre-paid taxi later. I was standing face to face with the lady who was my class room teacher of eighth grade. It was instant magic. It was almost half an hour of just running thru our old teachers and students from our school, that I remembered to ask her if I could wash my face. (It was a hot day here and the pre paid taxi was non AC).
We were the second batch in Miss Nandita Gurung’s long teaching career. Obviously, we had a lot of fond memories of other teachers, our school, our head master and some of the students. But the best part was me learning Miss Gurung’s personal background.
A highlight of the day was meeting her husband – Mr. Uday Gurung. We talked about a lot of things and we had a lot of connections – from motorcycle riding to mixology. (I am now intrigued about the motorcycle ride from Leh to Ladakh). What was most impressive to me was how Mr. Gurung had fought back cancer successfully.
Siliguri is my sister’s town. After getting married, she moved to Siliguri. I have come here many times. I even have pictures of goats waiting to cross the runway after the plane cleared from over 20 years back. My sister moved out about 10 years back.
It was just great to visit to a town that I had some familiarity with. With a teacher that have a lot to be thankful for.
Picked up quite a few tips about the mountain areas from Mr.and Mrs. Gurung. Natasha is the mountain person at home. Maybe, I can entice her to visit this part of the world soon!!
