21 June 2020

Father’s Day and slavery

I do not believe the Roy daughters or the Mukherjee daughters realized this when they planned to celebrate Father’s Day for Mr. Mukherjee (that be Amitesh) and Mr. Roy (that be yours truly) at the Vickery Creek Trail by the Roswell Mill. This trail has one of the few remaining wooden covered bridges in the south (and in Georgia).

There is a fascinating history of an emancipated slave and covered bridges. The following is quoted from Caroline Eubanks – a Lowell Thomas award-winning travel writer, and the author of “This Is My South”

The existence of the bridges can mostly be traced back to Horace King. He was born into slavery in South Carolina in 1807 but was freed from contractor John Godwin. King would go on to design the spiral staircase for the Alabama State Capitol as well as covered bridges in Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. Known for his work using the Town Lattice Truss system, you can see this style in many of the state’s bridges.

We live in the middle of so much history in the south!! This is literally 20 minute ride from my house.

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20 June 2020

Lunch by the railway track

Caught up with John towards the end of our motorbike ride about his family. Over lunch at a restaurant by the railway track in Woodstock. John surprised me by how much he knew about the storm in Kolkata, Indian politics and the Indian prime minister Modi. We talked about the political situation in US, the likely outcomes of the virus, how he misses seeing his step grandson in Kenya growing up (he is stuck due to virus and cannot travel) and such. Really loved the conversation and the variety of topics John has wisdom around.

Should have known this guy long time back.

For that matter, should have started riding motorbike long time back too!

20 June 2020

Everything is better on a motorbike

John and I had not gone for a motorbike ride together in a long time. We fixed that problem today with a 100 mile ride. I met John for the first time in Sep 2017. We were in the same motorbike safety class. We bonded well since we were the only two over 50 years old in the class. (The rest were 25 and below). Also, we were the only ones without any visible ink on our skin.

For both of us, it would be the first experience in riding a motorbike. Turns out we bought the same make and model of motorbike (different years). I have stuck to my good old 2017 Honda CTX 700 DCT from the first day I rode it. John, in the meanwhile, has gone thru about four motorbikes, one three wheeler and a scooter. Finally, as of two months back, he has come back to our original model. He has the 2018 version. But as you can see the bikes look near identical. Of course, John being John, his motorbike has been heavily accessorized with all sorts of gizmos and gadgets. Mine is still pretty much the same as it came when we brought it home in Nov, 2017.

It was a great ride together. The feelings that come over you as you cut thru the heavy breeze in the gently winding rural roads of Georgia on a motorbike with a friend in tow cannot be possibly described; only experienced!

20 June 2020

Friday evening winding down

First Sharmila and I showed up by the lake. Stayed inside the car waiting out the thunderstorm. And then settled down by the lake shore with a couple of gins. Guess who showed up after some time. Good old Parijat and Dipanjan – fully equipped with their foldable picnic tables!!

It was a good and enjoyable evening.

Very interestingly, while the thunderstorms went by, temperatures dipped down from 84 to 65 in about half an hour. And then went up from 65 to 77 in the next half an hour!!

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20 June 2020

In remembrance of all those people who have meant something to me…

Being on the other side of 50, song choices are often rooted in nostalgia. This evening’s song is dedicated to all those folks that have crossed my path – influenced me in so many ways – some small, some big – and I never got a chance to cross their paths again – to say a simple “Thank You.” My life was enriched by every such friend I have had, their parents who often guided me, my teachers, my family, those strangers who often left a big mark on me, those who became very close to me and then became strangers, my colleagues, those fellow passengers, those random foks that I met at restaurants, bars and streets… in so many ways, life has been nothing but an enriching collage of those meetings…

From the pen of Anand Bakshi..

“Zindagi ke safar mein
Guzaar jate hain jo makaam
Woh phir nahin aate.
 
Phool khilte hain, log milte hain, magar
Patjhad main jo phool murjha jate hain
Woh baharon ke aane se khilte nahin

Kuchh log ek roz jo bichad jate hain
Wo hazaron ke aane se milte nahin
Umr bhar chahe koi pukara kare unka naam

Woh phir nahin aate”

Roughly translated (improvements welcome)

In this caravan of life, all those places you pass…
They never come back again!

Flowers bloom; people meet; but
That flower that wilted in Fall,
Does not bloom again in Spring

Some people that split paths with you once
Never show up again, despite the milieu that you meet
Try as much as you might call out for them

They never come back again!