I have to somewhat sheepishly admit that this item was one of the reasons that I chose to stay in Royal Bengal this time instead of my usual JW Marriott. You might remember from an earlier post how I had discovered this in March this year in this hotel.

I had to start breakfast today with it. If you know me at all, you know that I am not a foodie by any remote definition of the word. I eat so as to not get hungry. I try to stay on time with my meals and with age, have started to get a little disciplined with what I eat.

And “panta bhaat” is not exactly for the weak of the heart. Or generous of the waist. This is white rice, white potatoes, mustard oil, raw onions and raw chillies. If those “white” calories were not enough, it might serve well to remind you that the rice is actually fermented overnight – which gives it some alcohol content. So, there is that! And all these when you are trying mightily to get up!

But what I am in favor of – is nostalgia. Re-living old moments. Life visited is wonderful. Life re-visited makes it memorable. “History Of My Future”, as it were.

Mid 70s – when our family was still struggling to get a financial foothold, this is what mom would make for breakfasts on weekend days. What was sorely missing today is the “knacha posto“!

I duly filled in the suggestion card 🙂

Going around the incredible spread of food for lunch at the Royal Bengal, I was dilly dallying on what cuisine to settle for. After some time, thought will go with the local Bengali food. (Coming all the way to Kolkata and eating sandwiches seemed somewhat out of place).

The spread was pretty much in line with mom would make for lunch every time I visited her – “gobindo bhog chaal”, “begun bhaaja”, “uchhe bhaaja”, “lau posto”, “daal” and “aloo jhuri bhaaja”.

The only way these folks could have made it any closer to my mom is by dumping multiple big ladle full of all these stuff on my plate before I could even protest!!

Went from the airport straight to the hotel in Kolkata. My brother – who also came in to town around the same time as me – met me there.

Taking advantage of the rains, we grabbed a couple of chairs under the umbrella by the pool and started chatting. The ever helpful servers got us drinks and snacks in regular intervals walking thru the rains! It did help that we were the only guests anywhere near the pool area!!

Reminded me of the old days when we would love to get drenched in the rains together. Now, nobody is however left to berate us with the much respected Bengali tradition of “thanda legey jaabey”!

I was checking in at the boarding gate in Doha for my flight to Delhi when I saw a jacket button sitting at the desk. Curiosity got the better of me.

“Who left a jacket button here?”

The person at the gate said something from behind the mask that I could not comprehend. I continued with my puzzled look. For a moment I thought may be he did not understand my question with the muffling effect of my mask.

He repeated again… “It is a microphone, sir!”

It was a microphone!! I touched it – sure enough it was stuck there. Very carefully masquerading as a button.

It was not till I had walked straight into the plane that it struck me – What was a microphone doing on the desk? For gate announcements? That would be fairly uncomfortable bending all over to speak into it. And if you did not have to reach near it (very powerful microphone), it was bound to pick up a lot of background noise.

I think I will ask them on my way back…

Just an overnighter and my laptop backpack. 36 hours of flight, 48 hours of dealing with Indian bureaucracy (related to my late parents’ properties) and 36 hours of flight back. In between, hope to see my siblings and their families and if the court documents are settled with early enough – one quick dash to the see the last of the parents surviving – my mother-in-law. What is a trip to India worth without the constant back and forth of her badgering me to eat more and me steadfastly refusing to do so?

One thing though – India still has some attraction for me to go back to. After all, I have been making quarterly trips even after the parents passed away. I still long to spend more time with my brother and sister (an evening without my brother narrating “Ami Kono Risk Niy Na” is almost a wasted trip for me) but without the excitement of being able to see my parents, the attraction of the location is fading. I keep asking myself – why can’t we meet somewhere else? That way we can all see a new place together.

Have you ever gone thru this?