Celebrating Vinayaka Chavithi, aka Ganesh Chaturthi, has been our family tradition since my childhood. We have continued it in the US, in our own way – which is a quick reading of the story in front of the deity (in our own mini shrine). Uma always makes the standard 3 items – Pulihora (tamarind rice), Vadas and Paayasam (vermicelli pudding) as prasaadam (offering). As the resident atheist, my role is to take memorable photos of the event and partake in the yummy goodies 😊.
We have never been sticklers for the actual date. We’ve done it on the weekend closest to the first day of school. We have continued the tradition of putting our favorite books (or the subject books which we needed most help with 😊 – like calculus or organic chemistry) at the puja (worship). There are a few years when Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens were placed comfortably next to Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens or George Carlin’s Brain Droppings. One year, Uma was in India, and the kids and I still kept the tradition going, even though it meant reading Amar Chitra Katha’s summarized version of the story.
Ganesh Chathurthi is coming up! You can’t miss it! The Indian grocery stores are packed with Ganesh idols and related saamagri (material used for the puja). Apparently, even HomeGoods is getting in on the action. Although they seem to also be getting a super head start on Diwali (which is not till November 8th).
HomeGoods is going all out for Ganesh and Diwali
I just realized that over all these years, we’ve only given our kids a taste of the Telugu version (and nomenclature) of the festival. Last year my daughter got an invitation for “Bappa’s farewell,” and she messaged me:
“Do you know what they mean by ‘Bappa’s farewell’? Is this someone in their family who died, or something about Ganesh? We are unable to go, but I want to reply appropriately. ”
After I stopped LOLing, I told her that it’s the Ganesh Visarjan (immersion or “letting go” in Sanskrit) and that Marathi people (from the state of Maharashtra) refer to Ganesh lovingly as “Bappa”!
“Ok phew! I truly didn’t know. Never heard of Ganesh referred to as “Bappa” before. Google said it can mean father or Ganesh. Good thing I didn’t reply saying “sorry for your loss” 😅 “
Recently, we had a mini crisis in our house: our microwave suddenly stopped working! This was a full-blown panic situation. How were we going to survive? We were down to just a range with four burners, an oven, and an air fryer. That’s it! 😜
And that got me thinking… how far we’ve come from our humble beginnings in Hyderabad of the 1960s and ’70s.
Growing up in Hyderabad, my parents had one small kerosene stove. You poured kerosene into a chamber, pumped a piston, and that got the flame going. That was it—just one burner. This was before LPG gas stoves (which felt luxurious with their two burners). There was no fridge, no blender, no geyser (water heater), no washer or dryer—of course.
In those early days, we didn’t even have a dining table. We sat on a wooden peeta—a plank barely an inch off the floor.
And Amma ran the entire household with just that stove.
We took it for granted then, but thinking back now, I simply cannot wrap my head around how she did it.
Every morning, she made fresh rice and curries—breakfast for us, and packed lunches too (sometimes with freshly made chapatis). Remember, there was no fridge. Everything had to be cooked fresh. She fed us, got the three of us ready for school, and once we left for the bus stop, she and Nana would head out as well. They both had government jobs—Nana as an accountant in a central government office, and Amma as a Physics lab instructor at Gandhi Medical College.
And it wasn’t just the five of us.
Friends and relatives from our native villages would often show up—unannounced. They came to the city for medical visits, work in the court, or government offices. Today, we hesitate to visit neighbors without texting first. Back then, people took overnight buses and showed up at your doorstep at 6:00 AM.
The doorbell rings. You open the door. Surprise—guests!
And just like that, Amma would quietly expand her plans for the day—meals, space, everything—to include them.
We kids, of course, felt none of the strain. We were just thrilled—because guests meant homemade goodies from the villages.
College Days and Colleagues
Amma worked at a medical college, where first-year students studied basic sciences like Physics and Chemistry. She often regaled us with stories about her colleagues—Mohan Rao uncle, perhaps the head of the department at that time; Vijaya aunty, her close friend; Shantha aunty from Chemistry department; another Shantha aunty from Botany; Bilquis aunty; Hemalata aunty and Regina aunty.
We later learned, sadly, that Vijaya aunty passed away just a day after Amma.
Unlike today, colleagues didn’t socialize much outside work. But occasionally, they treated themselves to lunch at HavMor in Basheerbagh, right across from the college. Amma’s descriptions of their chole bhature and ice creams were so vivid that we felt we had eaten them ourselves.
She also told us stories that opened up the world to us—of colleagues from different communities, different backgrounds. One aunty, related to the then Chief Minister M. Chenna Reddy, had multiple household staff and drivers. Others came from Muslim and Christian families. And then there were Telangana colleagues, whose “funny accent” amused us—long before Telangana became a separate state. Of course, in hindsight, we Andhra folks were the ones who had migrated there—so perhaps we were the ones with the funny accents!
Adventures in the Kitchen
Amma loved experimenting in the kitchen—something quite unusual for her time and background, when most cooking stayed within traditional, inherited recipes, from their mothers.
She learned from colleagues, from our neighbor Anasuya aunty (whose Yanam-influenced cooking had its own unique flair), and even from Femina magazine, which we subscribed to annually.
Much later, during visits to India, Ramya and Vidya noticed her enthusiasm for TV cookery shows—where she picked up new ideas like pudina rice with meal-maker (soya chunks), which we all loved!
I’m quite certain I inherited this “spirit of adventure” from her.
After all, I’m the one who came up with Mysore masala waffles and twice-cooked chicken biryani! And like her, I analyze every new dish I eat and confidently declare, “You just have to pressure-cook the chana dal with the mutton and mash it with the masalas—that’s all! No big deal. We can easily make this at home. No need to spend so much money!” 🙂
My all-time favorites of Amma’s cooking include mutton chops, “Spanish rice” (which had nothing Spanish about it), whole stuffed kakarakaya (bitter gourd), and shami kebabs, which she made only once—but my mouth still waters whenever I think of it.
On my trips back to Hyderabad in the late ’80s and early ’90s, I would request Spanish rice and mutton chops—and she would lovingly oblige.
My one regret? I never asked her for the recipes. Now it’s up to us to try and recreate these. I am so happy I recently managed to replicate Amma’s Spanish rice! Yay!! On to the other ones now!
Later, Amma and Nana became vegetarian. Not only did she stop making these dishes, but she would give Nana the dirty looks whenever he occasionally strayed from the vegetarian diet. 🙂
One of my fondest memories is our very first restaurant experience—though back then, they were all called “hotels.” She and one of the aunties from college took us to Dwaraka Hotel in Lakdi-ka-pul for our first masala dosa. That was quite an unforgettable experience! Unlike today, eating out was a rare treat—I can count on one hand the number of times we did.
Veena
In the early to mid-’70s, Amma decided to learn the veena.
Looking back, this feels remarkable—pursuing a personal passion while managing a household and a full-time job. She had some early exposure to classical music in her village, mostly vocal. But learning the veena was something new.
A teacher would come home once a week. I don’t know about my siblings, but I certainly absorbed something—if only by osmosis. I remember plucking at the strings, curious and fascinated.
More than anything, those sessions gave me a tuition-free exposure to classical music.
One of the first pieces she played was “Giri Raja Sutha.” Years later, when I heard Mandolin Srinivas perform it at a Shakti concert in Philadelphia, I was instantly transported back—to our SVR Nagar home, with Amma playing that Tyagaraja kriti.
A Life Well Lived
These are just a few of my many cherished memories of Amma.
She lived a full and accomplished life—becoming the first college graduate in her family and, along with Nana, raising us into successful, productive citizens of the world. Over the years, she also supported many relatives—offering them a home, guidance, and a path forward in their education and careers.
We said goodbye to her on April 22, 2026.
On May 3rd, a brutally hot day in Hyderabad, we gathered at Jubilee Hills Club for a memorial lunch in her honor. Over 200 family members and friends—people who knew her from SVR Colony, Gandhi Medical College, Government Degree College, the Ramachandra Mission, and beyond—gathered to reminisce about the ways she touched their lives and to relive fond memories of happy times spent with her over the years. It was deeply moving to see some of her earliest colleagues—Mohan Rao uncle, Hemalata aunty, and Shantha aunty —make the effort to be there, despite their age, to remember her and share stories.
Amma may no longer be with us, but in so many ways—in our kitchens, in our music, in our stories—she still is.
Surrounded by trees in a quiet cul-de-sac, we are quite used to the sounds of nature – like the playful tweeting of small birds and even the very high-volume chirping of crickets in the evenings. It was the 1st week of May, and this year we barely recovered from the nasty, lingering winter. Uma and I woke up to the constant rhythmic tapping. My first thought was that the pesky woodpecker is back. The one that made holes in our wooden eaves and overhangs a couple of years ago. After I walked around the house and found no woodpeckers, I came back in and could still hear the knocking. As I was passing by the family room, I saw the culprit! A little bird with a red beak was furiously jabbing at the giant glass window! When I got closer, it saw me and flew away. I didn’t pay much attention to it and got busy with my daily routine. The next morning, the knocking was back – at around 6:00AM! I came down and confirmed that it was the same bird. Guess what? After almost 3 hours, it was still at it! Knocking away or sometimes just violently flinging itself at the windows as if it were intent on breaking the window down! The bird kept doing this every day, for several hours a day! Uma and I felt bad for the poor bird. We wanted to find ways to discourage it. Uma thought of tying shiny/colorful mylar balloons on the outside. A similar strategy worked for the aforementioned woodpecker. We had put up shiny ribbons on the eaves at that time, and that did it!
Our Daily Visitor!
We promptly picked up 3 helium-filled mylar balloons and tied them on the outside, near the windows. The balloons were flailing, but seemed to be sufficiently distracting to have done the job. Unfortunately, the balloons only lasted two days! I have never seen them get deflated so quickly. Such balloons used to last up to 2 weeks. It seems that there is an acute shortage of helium because of the war with Iran. So it’s possible that they filled it with something else (this is my conspiracy theory and I am sticking by it 😊)
Cardinal vs window!
Soon after, the bird was back with full vigor. I felt terrible for the poor thing! Whatever is it’s deal? Why this obsession with coming into our house? We’ve been in the house for over 20 years and never experienced anything like this. I promptly resorted to Google and ChatGPT for answers, as one does, these days!
First, a couple of photos of the bird were fed into the search engine, which identified it as a female Northern Cardinal, with its characteristic thick orange-red beak and short crest. While doing this, I suddenly remembered about the only other time we had a bird encounter in this house (besides the woodpecker one) was exactly 3 years ago.
Flashback
Birds don’t enter my kitchen voluntarily (for fear of ending up in tandoori something or other)! But, back in May 2023, one day I came down into my kitchen and heard the chirping of birds IN THE KITCHEN!! After some quick detective work, I figured out that a bird entered the external opening of the kitchen exhaust hood and felt comfortable enough to start a family right there in the duct. I realized that instead of leaving from the vent to the outdoors, the hatchlings fell into a vertical shaft behind the wall!
Operation Bird Rescue
It took my friend Jagadeesh and me over 2 hours to rescue four of the babies and pull out one of the dead ones. I used my iPhone in video mode in one hand, to look and maneuver the vacuum suction hose with the other hand to grab the chicks! Now I know exactly how a Gastroenterologist doing an endoscopy or colonoscopy feels . A couple more dead ones were stuck there for a few more weeks, till I could devise clever McGyverish techniques to pull them out! Meanwhile, the mama bird was relentless, and it kept trying to come in and start another family, till I sealed the outside flap with a makeshift mesh and put an end to its ambitions.
Thinking about this incident from 2023, I realized that there is a strong possibility that this current cardinal was one of the four that I had rescued three years ago. It turns out that the lifespan of such Cardinals is 3-5 years, which matches perfectly with the 2023 adventure. Also, I found out that many birds have an instinctive drive – known as natal philopatry, to return to the exact area where they were born. Bingo! This makes perfect sense now!
Natal Philopatry in humans?
I am the middle child in our family. My brother, who is 1 year older, was born at a hospital in Hyderabad. My younger sister was born in a hospital as well. For some reason, it was decided that I should be born at home in my mom’s native village. It was an all-natural delivery, assisted only by a rural midwife. No anesthesiologist to give an epidural. In fact, no doctors of any kind were in attendance. This was my grandmother’s house in PT Parru, where I had spent my early years and also many summer holidays. We all have very fond memories of this house and the village itself. I was very attached to my grandmother. After my grandmother and aunt passed away, and the cousins spread out, there is no one from our family in that village.
In 2020, when our extended family visited Hyderabad for a short visit, we had 24 hours to make a quick round trip from Hyderabad to Uma’s village to visit relatives and introduce Shivam to the refreshing countryside. On the way, we were passing by PT Parru (my mom’s native place). Even though we were tight on time, I insisted that we take the short detour into the village.
We walked around the house where I was born in 1961. I wondered if it’s ok to go in and introduce ourselves to the current owners and ask to take a quick peek inside, maybe take a few selfies. I wanted my daughters and son-in-law to see the place where I was born! In fact, I was disappointed that there were no big signs on the main road that said, “Next 2 exits to Yash Punati’s birthplace”! 😞 . We finally entered the house and explained to the puzzled lady the reason for this intrusion into their house. While she clearly did not seem to grasp how big a deal this was for me, she was gracious and welcoming. We took a few photos and savored the moments before heading on to the next village. While I could not spell the exact reason why I was so eager to get into that house back then, now, thanks to this little bird and Google, I know that it is definitely natal philopatry at work… 😊
Epilogue
It’s been almost 2 months since the cardinal started knocking on our window. Guess what? It still comes every day and knocks on the big windows for a few hours throughout the day! At this point, I am feeling like I should just leave the doors open, be gracious and let it come in, and maybe even let it bring its family, like what that lady in PT Parru did for us. What’s the harm if I let it take a few selfies and post them in its extended family WhatsApp groups? 🤷🏼
Singapore noodles have been an integral part of our Chinese takeout orders for years. Along with hot and sour soup and Kung Pao chicken, they form a perfect trifecta of Chinese goodness that we crave regularly. Those delicious rice noodles—loaded with chicken, shrimp, and vegetables, coated in that oily, deep yellow turmeric-curry goodness—are our favorite for very good reason!
That day, it was my turn to reheat leftovers from Eastern Dragon for lunch. Uma was upstairs working. I pulled the big bowl of the aforementioned noodles out of the microwave, while mentally juggling multiple thoughts—an upcoming work meeting, whether I should have heated the soup first (because that’s clearly the proper sequence for a Chinese meal, right?), or perhaps even how to bring peace to the Middle East.
And then… it happened.
The bowl slipped.
There was a loud crash.
Singapore noodles—everywhere.
The bowl shattered into a million sharp pieces. The kitchen floor was instantly transformed into an unholy yellow disaster zone.
“Oh no… what did I just do?”
Uma yelled, “What happened?” and came running downstairs. I braced myself for some serious yelling—which, to be fair, would have been entirely justified if you had seen the scene.
This, however, was not my first rodeo.
Growing up in Hyderabad, India, one of my regular chores as a 10–12-year-old was to walk a few hundred yards to a poultry farm and bring back eggs. There was no nice paved road—just rocky terrain. Over the years, there were at least 3–4 occasions when I dropped the entire box and came home crying.
The crying was strategic.
After all, what parent would scold a child who is already crying?
Then there was the summer at my grandmother’s village. She used to milk buffaloes and sell the excess to the village dairy cooperative. One day, she entrusted me with the important responsibility of delivering a full aluminum can of milk.
Based on the pattern so far, you probably know what happened next.
Yes. I dropped it.
The can dented. The milk spilled. I became distraught.
The folks at the dairy kindly consoled me: “Don’t cry over spilled milk… 😉 we won’t tell your grandma.”
Of course, this was a small village. Everyone knew everyone. She knew before I even got home.
That’s the day she gave me my nickname: “Oti chethulu” which loosely translates to “butter fingers.”
Fast forward to the present day… or rather, that day with the Singapore noodles.
I was honestly shocked by how calmly Uma handled the situation. No yelling. No dramatics. She just quietly got to work cleaning up the mess. It took a long time. I mostly stayed out of the way, careful not to make things worse by stepping on oily noodles and spreading the disaster further.
When it was all done, she simply said, “Just be mindful next time when you’re carrying these bowls.”
That was it.
I felt terrible—not just for dropping lunch, but for creating so much extra work for her. Right then and there, I took a solemn vow: this would never happen again.
I actually wrote most of this piece last Wednesday. Then I took a short break… to heat up lunch.
Yes. I did it again! Grrrrrgh
This time, it was Indian curry. Mixed with sharp ceramic shards. Spread beautifully across the kitchen tiles.
Good lord!
This is no longer an accident. This is a pattern.
With all my mishaps, I could have done PhD-level research!
At this point, I have three observations and one request:
First, the tiles we chose for our kitchen 20 years ago are remarkably resistant to turmeric stains. Extremely reassuring.
Second, Uma used to be very particular—borderline obsessive—about cleanliness. Not anymore. I sometimes wonder if my repeated “incidents” have slowly desensitized her. Just saying… 😊
Third, whatever she’s doing for anger management—yoga, breathing exercises, or some advanced spiritual discipline—is working brilliantly. She should absolutely continue.
And finally, a request:
Does anyone know where we can find those classic CorningWare dishes with the floral patterns and handles?
We seem to be running out of them… for some reason. 😀
<This article was published in TANA Patrika in December 1994. It was restored from an old PDF for the benefit of a generation that has fond memories of those AIR days>
It all started when my wife asked me if I could suggest any new songs for her to sing at the upcoming Diwali function. There was this song “vandanam.. vandanam… giri nandini priya nandana…” residing in some deep crevices of my brain, which we had learnt from the (then) popular light music program on the radio called “Ee Maasapu Paata” (song of the month). While trying to recollect this song, I started thinking about all the good AIR (All India Radio) programs we used to enjoy as kids.
Our “Phillips” had a special place in the house – atop an ornate box (which held dirty laundry!). It would be ON from the time AIR signature tune went out till everybody left home for school/office (around 8:00AM). I remember a time when we had to pay Rs. 15.00 per year as a license fee for owning a radio! Yes, my dad showed me the little passport-sized booklet, with the big stamp (which was the license). This practice was later discontinued when the AIR people discovered the concept of advertisements to raise revenue.
Walter Kaufmann’s AIR signature tune
“Ee Maasapu PaaTa” – by Chittaranjan was one of our favorites. In this program, he used to teach one song (“Lalitha Sangeetham”) per month to his students (and the audience). It was ON in the mornings (on a weekday), therefore, we only heard most of these songs while getting ready for school. Nevertheless, they made such an indelible impression on my mind that I remember some of the popular ones even today (approximately 20 years after I first heard them!). Another popular program (at least in our household) was “Sanskruta PaaTam” – by Kesavapanthula Narasimha Sastry. In our curriculum, we had Sanskrit from 5th to 7th grades, and this program helped us quite a bit. This Sanskrit lesson used to begin with a beautiful “Subhasitham” :
“Kaeyura na vibhooshayanthi purusham
na hara na chandrojwala
Ksheeyanthe su bhooshanaani sathatham
Vaakbhooshanam bhooshanam”
On weekends, everyone’s routine revolved around the radio program. The Saturday morning Suprabhatam could be heard from every house in the colony. I got so used to that version of the Suprabhatam that M.S.Subbulakshmi’s version sounded harsh when I heard it later. Remember the “christava bhakti geetaalu” on Sunday Mornings? “Yesu nee naamaamrutham maakentha ruchi ayya”. It sounded like Jikki, but I am not sure. Also, you probably remember “Sree hanumanu guru devudu naa yeda..” (i.e, Sundarakaandam) by M.S. Rama Rao in the mornings.
In those days (early 70’s), “Baalaanandam” and “Baalavinodam” were the most popular programs for kids. Baalavinodam was for the younger kids and was on Saturday afternoons. As a member of the Venkata Ramana Colony Baalaananda Sangham, I had the privilege of participating in this program on a couple of different occasions. Once, I was a cast member of a serial drama (“Sri Krishna Leelalu”), which was on Baalavinodam for a few Saturdays. Since Saturdays were school days, I had to make arrangements at school to listen to the drama. I approached Seshagiri Rao sir – our Hindi teacher – and boasted to him about this great role that I played on the radio drama, and convinced him to bring his transistor (radio) to school so we could all listen to it. My character did not show up in the first two episodes, but I was maha thrilled to hear my name in the “Paatralu Paatradhaarulu” list. I have a feeling that Seshagiri Rao sir started to doubt the importance of my “paatra” in this drama when the list ended with -Kamsudu – Srinivas, Devaki – Gouri, mariyu.. Narendar, Yashodhar, Ravi. Finally, the third Saturday was my BIG day!! I appeared in multiple roles on this day – Once, as a soldier who responds to the “Yevarakkada?” and also as a part of the crowd that rushes to the lake to watch Krishna do his dance on “Kaaleeya”-the snake. I was quite impressed with my performance. From the looks on their faces, my Hindi teacher and the other kids did not share this opinion!
I was a big fan of “Baalanandam” on Sunday afternoons. I was a proud member of the studio audience (yeah!) of this great program on one particular Sunday, and bragged about it for quite a while! Ravuri Bharadwaja was the “Radio Annayya”. Nyayapati Raghavarao & Nyayapati Kameswari were the original “Radio Annayya and Radio Akkayya”. Later, they founded Andhra Baalananda Sangham in Narayanguda, Hyd. They enjoyed being with kids and were extremely popular with them. I had a chance to meet them briefly at one of the competitions conducted by Andhra Baalananda Sangham. That day in the studio, Ravuri Bharadwaja (with his black coat) looked a lot like Mujibur Rehman, I thought. He was a tough disciplinarian in that studio. Well, he had to be, or else he would have had a riot with all those kids! That was my lucky day, because I found out that we would be going on the ever-popular tour of the “Milk Pasteurization Plant” (“paala saraphara kendram”). Those days, this tour was ON once every couple of months or so. It was a “staple” of the Baalanandam program – much like the “rat eradication” program (“Yelukala Nivaarana”) – on early Doordarshan programs. Anyway, I was all psyched up for the bus tour to the plant when I found out that they just play a pre-recorded tour. Boy, was that a letdown! After the tape ended, Mr. Bharadwaja said “mmm mmm Aaa rose milk yentha baagundho!” – to provide continuity, and to make it sound like we (everybody in the room) just returned from the tour. “You are not fooling anyone,” – I said to myself. But when I got home, everybody (including the adults) was asking me how the tour was, and saying how lucky I was to have gone on the day of the tour.
Even as a child, I was a big fan of “Naatakaalu”. The 3:00pm to 4:00pm time slot on Sundays (immediately following Baalaanandam) had the best Naatakaalu. I would stand no more than a foot away from the radio as though the thrill would be diluted if I got any more comfortable (on the chair, or the “navvaru mancham” in that room!). I used to enjoy all kinds of dramas, but for some strange reason – I only remember the following two names now – “Neellu raani kallu” and “Asamardhuni Jeevayaatra”. I used to idolize the talented “radio artistes such as Nanduri Vittal, Jyotsna, Ilyas, Sharada Sreenivasan, Banda Kanakalingeswara Rao, Jeedigunta Ramachandra Murthy, Ravi Verma, Akella Subbaraya Sarma, etc. I always wondered how these people looked in real life.
AIR Hyderabad’s audio drama : Kanyasulkam
Do you remember the “sankshipta sabdha chitram”? Abridged, soundtracks of movies broadcast in this time slot on every 3rd Sunday instead of the drama. It is surprising how they would fit a 2.5-hour movie into 1 hour. I “saw” quite a few movies this way! In fact, when I watched “Bullemma Bullodu” – starring Chalam, later, it was very similar to the way I imagined it would be, from the radio soundtrack!
How about “meeru kOrina paaTalu? Sometimes it would take the DJ 2-3 minutes or more to read off the names of people who requested a particular song. My sister and I were quite keen listeners to this program. We had come to the conclusion that a particular town in Karimnagar district (I can’t quite recollect the name now) had a cottage industry of people whose sole purpose in life was to write letters to this “meeru kOrina paaTalu” to request some songs. It is no exaggeration to say that every single show had at least one letter from this town. Of course, all this was before tape recorders (and now VCRs) were popular. Sometimes the announcer would read the first few names from the card and then, to the utter disappointment of the 20 others on the letter, would end by saying “Venkata Rao, Subbamma, Venkaiah… thadhitharulu” or “Venkata Rao, Subbamma brundham”.
Even though we kids never paid attention to the various news reports on the radio, the distinct styles and accents of the newscasters ring in my ears even to this day – “Aakaashavaani, Vaarthaloo chaduvuthundi Yedida Gopala Rao” or “Addanki Mannar” or “Maamillapalli Raajyalakshmi.” Then there was the “Kaarmikula Kaaryakramam” on Sunday afternoons featuring Baalayya (Sri Jeedigunta Ramachandra Murthy), Ekambaram, and Chinnakka (Smt Rathanprasad), conveying useful information to the workers through funny skits. Also, there were the regular announcements and filler programs like “Nilaya vidwaamsula vaadya ghosti” – Instrumental music by the resident (AIR) musicians.
As you would have guessed by now, I miss the fine programs on AIR. I miss them a lot!! From my vacation trips back to Hyderabad, I realized that radio does not enjoy the huge popularity it used to when we were young. The reason, of course, is obvious. Television, with all of its obvious advantages, has stifled a fine medium.
As we used to mimic the announcers at the end of a program, “inthatitho eenaaTi kaaryakraman samaptham”
In 1974, I was 13 years old when television first arrived in my hometown in India. It was black and white and had just a couple of hours of programming, primarily targeting the farmers. We were thrilled that they had one movie every week! We were a typical middle-class family, so buying a TV wasn’t quite a priority for us, back then. So every week, we’d go to my friend Ravi’s house to watch the movie. The entire neighborhood would show up, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. This is when I first discovered shows like “Different Strokes” and “I Love Lucy”, and thought, “Wow, I wonder if America has more sitcoms like this!”
Fast-forward to 1983 — I arrived in Iowa for grad school, and the number of TV channels here just blew my mind. It was like taking a starving man to a buffet. Almost immediately, I made it my mission to watch every single show. I soaked up American pop culture like I was training for a future “80s trivia night”! I’m still surprised that I actually graduated! I mean, how could you study when “The Jeffersons” were “movin’ on up” and Jack Tripper was rooming with Janet and Cindy?
I loved that there was a glossy 20-30 page TV Guide! Every week, I’d mark my favorite shows with a yellow highlighter, as if it were one of my textbooks. My lineup included old Bob Hope movies, Groucho Marx, and sitcoms galore — Andy Griffith, Barney Miller, Three’s Company, Family Ties, and “Sanford and Son”. My GPA was dropping, but my pop-culture IQ was through the roof!
When I got my first job, my first big purchase wasn’t furniture or a car. It was a 19-inch Sony Trinitron. That TV was my best friend. My only friend, actually. If you ask me about Cedar Rapids, Iowa, where I lived back then — I have no idea what it looked like outside. I never left my apartment! My evenings followed a sacred ritual: News, Jeopardy!, Wheel of Fortune, and then one sitcom after another, all the way through Johnny Carson and Nightline with Ted Koppel. Five hours a night! Every-single-night!
Then, in 1988, I moved from Iowa to Pennsylvania — 1,000 miles in my little Toyota Corolla, carrying all my worldly possessions: two suitcases, a Panasonic vacuum cleaner (which still works, by the way), and my first love — Sony. The following year, my wife, Uma, arrived from India. We had an arranged marriage, and she quickly discovered that I was already in a relationship. Within days, she accused me: “You spend more time with that TV than with me!” She was right. I would spend hours staring lovingly at that screen and maybe ten minutes talking to her. But hey, Jeopardy with Alex Trebek was a serious commitment! Our first few fights were about the TV. She’d say, “You’re not interested in me!” and I’d say, “But honey, this is a very special episode of Cheers – when Diane finally says Yes to Sam Malone!”
A small subset of the shows that kept me entertained!
Over time, Uma successfully weaned me off my addiction. We did watch a few shows together — LA Law, Cheers, and The Cosby Show. When the kids came along, Uma decided that the TV needed to go… to the basement. Not just any basement — an unheated basement. You had to really want to watch TV to go down there. At the time, I thought, “This is cruel and unusual punishment.” But honestly, it worked. The kids didn’t grow up glued to screens, and we actually talked to each other. What a concept!
Years later, once the kids left home, we decided (mostly I) to get a TV for the family room again. Now we have streaming, YouTube, and a million shows — and I find myself scrolling through social media feeds on my phone and flipping through channels while Uma is reminding me about taking the trash out, etc., etc. What can I say, I am good at multitasking! 😊
How it started and how it’s going! Nostalgia-evoking Doordarshan Signature tune composed by Pt. Ravi Shankar
When I look back at my journey — from Johnny Carson to David Letterman to Arsenio Hall to Colbert and Kimmel — I realize how lucky I was not to have had these distractions growing up. If I’d had Netflix in 1974, trust me, I would still be in high school. That’s why I have so much respect for today’s kids. They’re surrounded by every distraction imaginable — smartphones, tablets, TikTok — and some of them still manage to study and get good grades. That’s definitely superhero stuff! 👌🏾
So, parents — my advice: be like Uma, not like me. Keep the screens away. Maybe even stick the TV in the cold basement — or whatever the equivalent of that is for smartphones! While my first love was my 19-inch Sony Trinitron, my real love, the one who rescued me from it, is right here, reminding me (again) that I forgot to pay the bills!
Uma was seriously bummed out! She had been out watering her favorite flowering plants—a few annuals that she had planted just a week ago. She came in very upset because overnight some deer came in and chewed off a few of her begonias and petunias. That really is a shame, as these plants give out beautiful flowers throughout the summer and fall with very little care.
Newly planted flowering annuals
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Our family comes from the Guntur region of Andhra Pradesh in India. This region is known worldwide for the hot chili peppers grown there. Our grandparents and uncles used to farm these. I have fond memories of my grandmother arriving at our place in Hyderabad with copious quantities of assorted pickles and spice powders made with these Guntur chilies. One of my favorites was uppu mirapakaaya, which translates to Salted Chili Peppers. These are made by soaking green chilies in buttermilk and salt, and then drying them under the sun. When ready to use, they are deep-fried and then served on the side as an accompaniment to sambar rice or yogurt rice.
I can guarantee you that if you open the luggage of the Indians streaming in through JFK or Newark airport daily by the thousands, you will see that a big fraction of it is homemade pickles! No… these pickles have nothing to do with cucumbers at all! They mostly resemble the Chili oil you see in Chinese restaurants and can burn holes in your intestines if you do not have the appropriate South Asian cast-iron stomach for them!
Mango pickle – circa 2015 and Gunpowder – 2012
When I first brought them with me in 1983, the oil that leaked from the mango pickle made such a mess that I was afraid they would kick me back to India right then and there! Since then, India has progressed a lot in pickle-packaging technology. For the last 25 years, we have been bringing these pickles and powders in thick plastic bags that have been sealed tightly, and never once have they failed and ruined a suitcase full of clothes. The only problem with bringing massive quantities of these (lovingly packed by our parents, who must think that we eat these pickles 3 times a day, every day) is that we now have piled up packets of these, methodically cataloged by Uma (with name and year). If I am not wrong, we are still working on our 2015 supply of mango pickle, while more recent supplies are patiently waiting their turn.
Inventory backlog! 😊
Uma vs Bambi
This morning, as I stepped out for my walk, I was surprised to see a yellow powder sprinkled around the annuals in the garden. Upon close examination, I realized that this was the crushed Uppu Mirapakaaya powder. That was brilliant! Uma confirmed that she opened up a package from the 2006 vintage and decided to try this home remedy in the hope that it would work and gently coax the deer to move along to the neighbor’s yard. I sure hope that it works as well.
My worry is that word will spread far and wide through the deer family WhatsApp groups that now the tender plants come with a side of yummy imported hot and spicy condiment, and we will end up with a horde of deer feasting on the begonia buffet!
What these deer don’t know is that Uma has a backup arsenal of deadly pickles that have been marinating in airtight plastic bags since 2004 – Aavakaaya (Mango), Usiri kaaya (Gooseberry), Tomato, Ginger! If these don’t work, next it will be an unrelenting barrage of Sambar kaarum, Goddu kaarum, and the appropriately named – Guntur gunpowder!
I thank the deer for nudging Uma towards this spring cleaning of the fridges, thereby making room for more supplies to be imported from Guntur on our next trip.
On the eve of the Spelling Bee finals (100 year anniversary of the Bee) the following vignette will do nothing to dispel the stereotype that Indians are born with an innate ability to spell. 😊
Back in 1985, when I was working in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was at work late one night on a particularly boring task and so was listening to music on the radio. This FM radio station had a popular contest. You had to be caller number 7 (or some such random number) and then had to answer their question of the day, like, “Who won the World series in 1968” or “What was the top of the country music charts in 1977” etc. That day as the stars lined up in my favor, it was none of these. If you were the lucky caller number 9 and could spell a word given by the DJ, you would win the special prize! I couldn’t believe that a radio station had a “made-for-Indians” contest such as this! That too on a fricking FM station and not NPR (National Public Radio)!
I felt like Cliff Clavin on Jeopardy when every category was in his favor
As luck would have it, I was that caller and was thrilled to make use of my latent GRE vocabulary knowledge! On the AIR that late evening, the word sounded like “Pulcreetude”! I vaguely remembered hearing it before. This was not Scripps Howard Spelling Bee, which meant the meaning of the word or language of origin etc. would not be given. I just took a chance and spelt – “P U L C H R I T U D E”, haltingly. When the DJ announced with lot of fanfare and FM radio sound effects that I had won, I just could not believe it! Oh Wow!
My Winning Album!
So, what did I win? A Neil Diamond Vinyl LP Record! Yesss! I was a huge fan of Neil Diamond, from the time when my best friend introduced me to his “Hot August Night” album, when we were in High School. His deep voice painted an amazing and beckoning portrait of “Brooklyn Roads” and America itself in “Coming to America” when I was a just a young boy roaming the “Hyderabad Roads”! Next day I rushed to the station and picked up the record and had a blast showing it off at work. My friends and colleagues were super impressed with my ability to spell such a difficult and uncommon word (meaning “beauty”). Some were jealous about this special skill I had, which unbeknownst to all of us at that time was going to be made obsolete by spellcheck, ten years later! BTW, I did not actually own a record player, and so, was happy to gift my contest winnings to my boss, who, as it turned out, was also a huge Neil Diamond fan!
On looking back, I now feel like that first Kenyan guy who won the marathon, just because he was bored and decided to give this running thing a try! 😊
Seriously though, if you feel we Indians are genius spellers because of our genes, get a load of these hilarious signs from India 😄 :
Those branches had it coming! They should have known that I have been sitting (figuratively)on a well-oiled Homelite chainsaw that’s been itching to cut into something! Sure, the last time I tried to use it to cut some branches, the retaining ring and the associated washer that kept the chain in place flew off and dislodged the chain. Then I had to spend a good 2 hours brushing through the grass with a magnet in the hopes of finding these needles-in-a-haystack. In any case, I finally managed to put it all together with the help of spare parts that I found on Amazon with great difficulty.
The branches of these backyard trees had been a nuisance for a while and I had to do tricky maneuvers while mowing the lawn, in order to not get poked in the eyes.
Today was a perfect sunny day for me to take care of it. So, I managed to run the long power cord to that area and fire up the chainsaw, and was happy that it started easily (considering the trouble I had with it the last time). I quickly cut the small branches and the chainsaw was going through these like a hot knife through butter. I was just about to declare victory on one of the thicker branches, when the weight of the bending branch jammed the chain. Yikes! That’s when it occurred to me that a professional would have cut from the top and not from below, while standing under it! Duh! 🤦🏽 Now, the 10 pound chainsaw got wedged solid in the branch that was 90% cut and would not budge, no matter how much I tried to wiggle it.
After much thought and safety planning (which should have been done before I started wielding the chainsaw like a horror movie villain), I went back out with a step ladder, some twine and a steel bow saw. Once freed from the branch, I knew that the chainsaw would come crashing down to the ground or even land on me. So, I safely tied it up to another branch with the twine. Next, I positioned the ladder across from the chainsaw and cut through the remaining branch gently. After a few minutes of this, the branch gave way and the chainsaw was freed. I was very pleased that the twine held up quite well… even though it did come dangerously close to me, like a pendulum, and almost turned me Jewish! 😊
Thank god (actually Home Depot!) for giving me these powerful tools to play with, so that I can pretend to be useful around the house! Thankfully I was also bestowed with just enough wisdom to use them safely and wisely and not risk chopping any limbs off (or give myself an unintended bris! 😊)
As soon as I got my first job in 1985 (straight out of college), my first big purchase was a car! A brand new 1985 Toyota Corolla. I paid $10000 for it. Guess what the next big purchase was?
I rented a one bedroom furnished apartment in Hiawatha area of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Within a week, I realized that I needed to buy a vacuum cleaner in a hurry, as the cheap carpet was turning dirty and that small space was quickly beginning to give out the feel of a Greyhound Bus station waiting room. So, I went to the only large electronics store in Cedar Rapids (It may have been called Best or even Best Buy) and picked one up purely based on the popularity of the brand: Panasonic!
Start of my modeling career for consumer electronics! 😊
I had no idea that Panasonic made vacuum cleaners. Later on, I found out that they were into every form of consumer electronics. Among the more unconventional products of Panasonic that I owned over the years – an electronic typewriter (which I had purchased in 1987, just to type up my resume, for the 2nd job) and a rice cooker! Of course, the most popular one is the cordless phone, with a built-in speakerphone and an answering machine. Over the years, I must have bought 10 such phones for myself and as gifts (especially to family in India).
The vacuum cleaner was relatively quiet and did a fantastic job with the floors: both carpeted or vinyl (no wood or tiles in those days, where I lived). Back then my most prized worldly possessions were – the aforementioned Corolla, a 19″ Sony Trinitron TV and this Panasonic vacuum cleaner. I moved from Cedar Rapids, Iowa to Ames, and then a year later to Allentown, Pennsylvania with these and a suitcase full of clothes! Over these 40 years – I lived in 5 apartments and 2 houses. Not once did this trusty little vacuum cleaner stop sucking! Along the way we bought a Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner because of the much touted hoses and nozzles that it came with. That one lasted less than 2 years and we had to get rid of it, as it started giving out a burnt plastic smell.
It’s amazing that this one from 1985 is still chugging along and taking care of the toughest cleaning jobs without a single repair in all of these 40 years! Hats off to Panasonic for making such a reliable product! I wonder if we can convince Panasonic to bring that same robustness into other areas such as – Soap dispensers in public restrooms, crumbling roads/bridges and shoring up fragile, teetering democracies! It’s worth asking, right? 🤷🏼😊
Movie : Phule (in Theaters) – Hindi with English Subtitles
IMDB : 8.2
It was a “first day-first show” for me!
For $12, I had the entire 200 seat hall to myself!
It would have been even better if they served some “chai and biskoot” (I am not really an “popcorn and soda” type guy).
I am so glad that I made the trip to New Jersey for this movie! It was so educational and inspirational! I had not heard about the Phules, till recently. It’s a shame that the great work done by these social reformers was not well publicized. Maybe it’s just me being ignorant of our history…
I loved how a historical cross-reference was given throughout the movie, in order to give a context to the world they lived in. For e.g. – they were only a few decades away from the French revolution; Abraham Lincoln was the president in the US. The US civil war and subsequent abolition of slavery happened right in front of their eyes (figuratively); All of these (along with Thomas Paine’s writings) had a profound influence on Mahatma Jyotiba and Savitribai Phule! The fact that they zeroed in on the need for educating the young ones – especially girls, that too under the oppressive circumstances of that time – highlights the mental fortitude of the couple!
I did know a bit about Anandibai Joshi (1st woman doctor from India, who got her MD from Women’s Medical college of Pennsylvania in 1886), who was also from the state of Maharashtra and is contemporaneous with the Phules. Her biography also details some of the horrors meted out against her and women in general of that time – who dared to step out and step up! You can well imagine the treatment of the lower caste Phules at that time. This was depicted very well in the movie!
Acting by the leads – Pratik Gandhi and Patralekha Paul – was excellent! Same with Vinay Pathak and Joy Sengupta! Darsheel Safary (of Taare Zameen Par) – doesn’t have much of a role to display his acting chops. The few songs/music didn’t do much for me.
Do watch it to learn about these great souls who dedicated their lives for the betterment of society, against incredible odds!
It’s possible that I may be a couple of weeks too late with this warning…
By now everyone has watched or at least heard about the hugely successful British series on Netflix. It feels like this is being discussed on every chat group. Even I have written a quick review after watching it and being blown away by its brilliance. On thinking through, I realized that it is not for everyone. It definitely is not a date night show! Take it from me – someone who took his wife to “Schindler’s list” on our wedding anniversary! 🤦🏽
I wanted to essentially redo my review with this disclaimer:
Don’t watch “Adolescence” expecting…
to be entertained
flashy fight sequences or police chases
melodramatic cliffhangers at the end of every episode – thereby making you want to binge watch episode after episode.
any kind of comedy
no religion or politics or sex
to see the good guys and bad guys put into clearly demarcated boxes
a closure in the form of a neatly tied up story
“Adolescence” covers the “why” aspect of crime that we routinely see in our news these days. It’s presented from the point of view of the accused and his family as opposed to that of the victim. The writing is super brilliant. Acting is mind-blowing, and so is the cinematography – which is surprising, considering that it’s not a story or theme that naturally lends itself to such! I predict it will sweep the awards in all 3 of these categories. Every single actor, whether it’s for the main characters or for bit roles, has lived in their characters so well that it felt like we were actually peeking in on real life happening in front of us.
Masterful performance by Owen Cooper and Stephen Graham
I am not usually a fan of heavy stuff. Those that know me well know that I am more of an “Airplane”, “Naked Gun” or “History of the World” type guy! But I was totally blown away by this serious themed short series (only 4 episodes).
The single-take approach they used for the series was fascinating and gave us a feel of actually being right there observing real-life drama! By the end of the series, I was feeling like an amateur cinematographer, who figured out where the camera was placed for a particular scene and when and how it transitioned to the drone etc. However, as tempting as it was, I had to watch myself from being the amateur psychologist who has it all figured out – the kids’ minds, how the parents, teachers and the psychologist should’ve handled the situations differently or better. Clearly the complex interplay of various factors influencing a child’s behavior defy simple and straightforward explanations.
I strongly recommend it! As I mentioned before, it is not entertaining but it is definitely thought-provoking. Watch it to understand the impact of social media, bullying and parenting on kids. I especially recommend it to parents of kids in schools (from elementary to high school). It exposes us to the kind of pressures that kids endure routinely these days. Since social media is all-pervasive, no country’s people are immune from its ill-effects. I am happy to see this series (and topics like peer pressure, bullying and parenting) being discussed in chatrooms worldwide.
I don’t remember the last time I got a speeding ticket. It must have been over 15 years ago. So, when I got one today in the mail, I was terribly disappointed! Not just for the $125 that I have to shell out, but because of the whole experience that I am utterly being deprived of!
Where’s the …
adrenalin rush when I spot the flashing lights?
waiting for the cop to make the dramatic approach (with my hands on the steering wheel)?
the anticipated quiz – “Do you know why I stopped you?”
nervously fishing out the registration and license from the glove compartment?
reeling off well practiced excuses? “Yes.. Officer.. I am very aware of the speed limits here in the work zone, but I seem to have a problem with my gas pedal.. which seems to be sticking and I have been meaning to get it checked. Maybe spraying some WD-40 when I get home might help.. also, I was distraught because of overall state of world affairs.. all these wars.. It’s quite distracting”.
Caught on Camera!
I totally agree with my wife’s frequent rant that technology is keeping us all from experiencing real human interactions and depriving us of the charm of emotional connection with each other! Can you believe this… it’s a fricking camera instead of a rude (or almost-sarcastically polite) police officer? Seriously? And If I contest the ticket (as I had done many times before, and covered here) it probably will be a zoom call and I will end up talking to an AI bot!
Now I totally understand how Sheldon feels!
PS: I blame my wife for this ticket! If she were in the car that day she would have reminded me (multiple times) to slow down!
The beautiful (antique looking) wall clock has been a fixture in our house since the early 90s. It’s a Bombay Company Winthrop Train Station Double-Sided Wall Clock that we bought from the Bombay Company store in North Wales, after we were very impressed by a similar one in my sister-in-law’s house. It seemed perfect for the half wall between the kitchen and the family room, with both sides visible from either of the rooms. I had heard that this store went bankrupt long time ago and has since resurfaced as an online store for a short time.
Of course we really don’t need yet another device to tell us the time. If I needed to tell the time, while standing in my kitchen, I can read it off any of the digital clocks that are there – the microwave, regular oven, stereo system and of course any of the phones, laptops, iPad etc. This clock is a lovely decoration item. In fact, one of the few such pieces on our walls. We are what I’d call accidental minimalists, when it comes to home décor – i.e. we didn’t plan on being minimalists but are happy that there is a fancy sounding term that perfectly describes the lazy, fashion-sense-lacking people that we are!
Over the years, the latch that held the two faces of the clock came off and I Macgyvered it together so that it would stay in place (as long as you didn’t breathe on it too hard 😊). Then one of the clocks stopped working. While I was attempting to diagnose it, I damaged the hands (which were quite thin and delicate). So, it hung on the wall in this sorry state for over 10 years.
This week I turned my DIY attention to this clock, mainly because my wife turned up the pressure on me. Since it was a metal-on-metal bonding, I thought that a weld was needed. If you didn’t know this about me, let me make it very clear – when trying my hand at DIY fixes, I go for the biggest possible hammer (figuratively speaking), even if the issue is not a nail. When I described the task to a repairman who did a welding job on my lawnmower deck, he suggested that his welding machine might be an overkill for something so small and delicate. I reluctantly agreed.
I then looked up ideas for gluing the latch, on YouTube. What I found was a whole world of possibilities with the magical combination of superglue and baking soda!
It was a very easy fix to superglue it and sprinkle the baking soda on it (with my wife holding the clock in place). Here’s a pro tip – if you forget to wear gloves when handling the superglue and get some on your fingers, a nail polish remover (Acetone) comes in very handy (I can vouch for this from personal experience 😊 ).
The replacement clock mechanism (from Amazon : clock parts) was very easy to install and came in with a bonus seconds hand.
All in all, I am thrilled that I was able to finally fix the clock and also excited to add new tools to my tool belt (which already includes the perennial favorites of Duct tape and WD-40).
Now that I watched a bunch of these types of DIY videos, I am super inspired to glue something! Anything, actually! So, it’s possible that there could be some screaming from my wife in the next few days, when she finds some unexpected and unintended items glued together. Do checkout the clip below to see the amazing creativity from these DIY stars (especially the rebuilding of gears in a plastic wheel using Superglue and Baking soda, for e.g.).
Watch this.. and thank me later 😊
What DIY project are you particularly proud of, and which ones are you embarrassed to admit in public? Let me know in the comments below. Do checkout a couple of my earlier DIY disasters here.
When I watched a Bollywood movie “Friday Night Plan” on Netflix recently, it reminded me a lot about my all-time favorite coming-of-age classic – “American Graffiti”! I wanted to watch it again, to re-live the 1960s that I experienced through several Hollywood classics. When I heard about the passing of Suzanne Somers, I just had to! So, I did. On Amazon Prime (by getting a Trial subscription of Paramount+. There’s an option to rent it as well). It was an amazing trip back to the 1960’s for someone like me who only experienced this highly romanticized life of that era vicariously through such movies! In the words of Carol.. it sure was a bitchin time!
Fast Cars and Rock & Roll!
This was probably my 4th or 5th time watching it and as before it always gives me the edge of the seat thrills of the teenagers drag racing on Main St. America, or that of the underage geek trying to get someone to buy him liquor or that studious hero of the town doing mischievous things (like messing with the cop’s car) on the last day in town before heading off to college the next day! All this fun on one Friday night in a small town in California where everybody knows everybody else… (except for this new blonde driving a White Thunderbird that catches Curt’s attention at a red light!)!
This brilliant movie by George Lucas (produced by Francis Ford Coppola) that was made in 1973, and set in 1962, is loaded with all the clichés of the America of the 1960s that we heard about (and saw in multiple other movies) – Diners with waitresses on skates, kids crazy about their wheels, Rock and Roll, high School dances, racing, guys with slickback hairstyles etc. The classic hits of that time being played in the background by the DJ (Wolfman Jack) from the local FM station throughout the movie was definitely a highlight!
The number of actors from this movie that later went on to achieve amazing successes is astounding – Richard Dreyfuss (Best Actor Oscar winner for The Goodbye Girl, 1977), Ron Howard (2 Oscars), Harrison Ford, Cindy Williams and McKenzie Phillips!
Suzanne Somers had just one line in this movie and it made her career! Talk about being at the right place at the right time!
Blonde in the white Thunderbird!
BTW, this movie that was made with less than $800,000 grossed $140 million at the box office!!
I was staring at the poster of the movie the other day and felt that there was something very familiar about it. Then it dawned on me that it was a Mort Drucker drawing! Mort Drucker of Mad Magazine… that I have been crazy about since I came across them in the 1970s in India! I have a good collection of them from the 80s… my prized possessions! I also found out that Mort not only did the poster for the movie, he also did the satire piece for Mad – titled “American Confetti”!
A Mort Drucker Poster!
This is the 50th year anniversary of the release of this classic! I heard that it was re-released in theaters a couple of months ago. That would have been a blast to experience this magic in a theater setting! No… we don’t need computer generated graphics to get our motors running! A simple script, a director and cast with passion can definitely do magic for under a million dollars (or $7 million in today’s money). Go check out this blast from the past… you won’t regret it! It is in the same coming-of-age genre as : Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Risky Business and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off!
The only time I ever bought a one way ticket was in 1983. As I stepped off the Air India flight on that crisp fall day, I had no idea that JFK Airport was going to be my own Ellis Island or Plymouth Rock! That significance did not dawn on me till a few days ago, when I reflected on the four decades that I have called the United States of America my home!
How it started.. and how it’s going!
Here are some random and cherished indelible memories from these past 40 years.
1983 to 1993 – Laying down roots
I arrived in Iowa City (from JFK, via Chicago) on a weekend before school started. Walking through downtown, and seeing partying kids overflowing from bars/clubs and some of them making out right there on the sidewalks was quite a culture shock for this ‘Fresh Off the Boat’ from conservative Hyderabad!
Having lived a nice sheltered life with my parents till 1983, it was quite a shock dealing with the idiosyncrasies of difficult roommates – one that ordered me around and another that insisted on making Rajma and rice everyday. I feel that these experiences actually prepared me quite well for marriage (in which, to be frank, I was probably the difficult roommate).
Mrs. Johnson rented out a bunch of units in Iowa City to grad students on Bowery St. So many Indian students used to live there that it was nicknamed “BoweryPuram”. She was such an Indophile that she was the only one in Iowa City to have an Indian flag back then.
Dr. Skorton, the Cardiologist that I worked for, joked that the cross section of a clogged artery that he showed during one of our lab meetings was pepperoni! Needless to say, I never ate pepperoni after that! Mind you, I eat everything else including all other meats, cheeses etc. Just NO pepperoni! That’s where the line was drawn in 1984, and it remained there!
I will always remember my very first Thanksgiving dinner in my friend Mike’s house in 1984. It was a sumptuous feast with his warm and friendly family. I clearly remember his little nephew taking one peek at me from the other room and saying “No, he is not Indian”, to the utter horror and embarrassment of the adults! Poor kid was expecting the other kind of “Indian” at the Thanksgiving dinner table! I thought that was hilarious!
For my first job in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I had the best commute of my life – a 10 minute walk. Unfortunately, later on (starting in 1990), I had to endure 2 hrs. of driving everyday for work.
You’d think that as a single guy making big bucks ($28K per year) I’d be living it up. Nooo! I used to spend all my evenings cooped up in my apartment, watching every sitcom and drama (5 hrs. straight), finally ending the night with “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson”! Normal people would consider that a sheer waste of time. I looked at it as diligent preparation for future “80’s Trivia night” contests. 😊
When I went on my 1st trip back to India – in 1987, I came back engaged! This was mind-blowing for my American friends and colleagues! One of them asked – “How do you know that you are compatible?”. After 35 years of marriage, we still don’t know if we are compatible and now we have fewer and fewer chances to find out!
I loved Iowa so much that when I first moved to the east coast and anyone asked me where I was from, I used to say that I was from Iowa. Iowa had friendly people, clean roads and was overall less congested compared to the east coast. Initially it was tough getting used to the east coast. But now, I am tempted to show the middle finger while driving, just to let people know that even I am a local now.
Uma came over from India in 1989. It was a tough transition for her (not having ever lived away from her family). In those early years, it was wonderful getting to know each other (ours was an arranged marriage, which I covered here earlier). All those years of learning to adjust to roommates of different temperaments came in handy for me! For Uma, this was her first experience with a difficult roommate, who insisted on watching all those sitcoms every evening.
I tried to teach her driving. This was one among many of my big mistakes! We used the mall parking lot on weekend mornings. Once I screamed at her to step on the brake, as she was about to crash into a light pole. She angrily declared that I was more worried about the car than her! She was right (as I found out later.. the wife is always right!)! It was my first car. A Toyota Corolla, that came into my life way before Uma did.🤪
In 1990, we moved from Allentown to Lansdale area and then I commuted 1 hour each way for 30 years! Yes it was a total of : 283,518 miles!
There was a time in the early nineties, when it seemed like all Indians were into Amway. It was a challenge avoiding all these prowling Indians in the malls looking for their next partner (“victim”). The first hint that the stranger approaching you was an Amway guy was that he was smiling (A dead giveaway. Indians normally do not smile or greet fellow Indians). If you acknowledge the smile, you are hooked. Then it moves on to – “Aren’t you from Bombay?” or “Didn’t I see you at the temple?”
For the 1st pregnancy, we signed up for Lamaze classes but soon realized the futility of getting into a comfortable position and doing breathing exercises when Uma started to doze off (she used to be terribly sleep deprived after a 32 hr. shift at the hospital). #LamazeSchoolDropout
1993 to 2003 – Joys of Homeownership & Parenting!
Even though I was not very mechanically (or electrically or plumbingly) inclined, I did enjoy tackling the DIY projects around the house – with a lot of help from my friends. I used to do oil changes for the cars, installed garage doors, garage door openers, storm doors etc. This was way before we had helpful YouTube videos for everything. Uma has more of an engineering mind than I do and so she always helped me with all of these projects. Believe me, we did have our share of DIY disasters… (as written here)
I can’t believe how we used to host parties for 50-75 people at a time in those days – doing all the cooking and cleaning while caring for two young ones and with fairly intense work schedules! The caterings started much later. In those days the nearest Indian restaurants or grocery stores were in Edison, NJ (3 hours of roundtrip driving).
For one of Vidya’s birthdays, we hung a piñata and let all the kids take turns whacking it. After it was thoroughly beaten into pieces.. and no candy fell out of it, the kids were close to tears. That’s when one of the other moms enlightened us that we were supposed to fill the piñata with candy. The store only sells the empty piñata! Oops! 🤦🏾
While I enjoy watching classical dances. I could not stand it when Uma and Ramya got into arguments during the Kuchipudi dance practice sessions over the right amount of knee-bending to achieve the correct posture or some such. I used to routinely seek refuge in the basement while this was going on.
We had several fun family vacations and road trips, with the exception of the one when we drove from Philadelphia to Orlando (16 hrs. each way) and 2 year old Vidya insisted that we play one particular Telugu song non-stop on a loop! BTW, “Adhireti Dressu” song is forever banned in our house since then.😊
2003 to 2013 – Exploring America and the World
As a family we loved the National Park vacations where we collected memories to last us a lifetime – Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, Grand Canyon, Zion, Acadia and more recently Bryce, Arches and Antelope Canyons.
Celebrating milestones by traveling to new and exciting places was a great idea. We did Montreal for Ramya’s graduation, Thailand for Vidya’s and Machu Picchu for yet another occasion.
As parents, we are happy to have passed along some of our personalities to the kids, which got nicely blended with their own inherent ones. Ramya, for instance, did not mind me chauffeuring her and her friends to the High School prom in our old Mercury Villager minivan (when everyone else was hiring stretch limos). By the time it was Vidya’s turn – she definitely wanted to go the limo route, and more importantly, never wanted to be seen by her friends getting down from the old Villager (whose paint was peeling by now). 🤷🏼
2013 to 2023 (‘Empty Nesting’ like a Boss!)
Exactly 10 years ago Uma and I celebrated our 25th anniversary in Hawaii – specifically Lahaina in Maui – which has been devastated this week with the horrible wildfires! The loss of lives and destruction of properties is truly heartbreaking! The 150 year old huge banyan tree (brought from India), which we admired so much, has been burnt but is still standing.
I started writing in nostalgia/humor genre in 2013 (with the first one about the 30th year anniversary of my coming to America). In fact, this is the 10 year anniversary of this blog. Over this past decade I have written about 40 pieces – covering growing up in India, early immigrant experiences and some random musings/reviews of movies and OTT series. I have thoroughly enjoyed this new creative outlet. I doubt that the friends and family whom I have spammed on Facebook and WhatsApp groups over this past decade are as thrilled about this new hobby of mine.
This decade brought major changes to our family. Ramya and Vidya started their professional lives. Ramya was only an hour away in the city and she introduced us to the side of Philadelphia that we did not know at all – the restaurants, museums and theater scene. Vidya totally enjoyed her stint of independent living in San Jose where she had a wonderful group of close friends.
Ramya and Shivam’s wedding was a major joyous event for us and we were thrilled that our extended families from India could come and celebrate with us.
Uma and I joined Toastmasters in 2017 and have been loving the experience of the friendly club that helps with public speaking. I credit Toastmasters for leading me to Improv and stand-up comedy.
I have been dabbling in stand-up comedy for these past few years and have been enjoying connecting with the comedy community online (during COVID) and in real life as well. I have thoroughly enjoyed doing stand-up open mics in different cities that I visited – Tokyo and Charlottesville, for example. Once I tried to do the same in Hyderabad but found the comedy scene there to be highly competitive (even for an open mic)! It is way easier to score tickets for a Taylor Swift concert than to get on an open-mic list in Hyderabad! Geez!
It has been fun watching our grandson Naveen grow over these past 2 years! It’s so cute that he asks us for “Pappu/Annam” (which is lentils/rice in Telugu, our mother tongue) and then turns around and asks his other grandparents for “Daal/Chawal” (which is the same in Hindi, their mother tongue).
We’ve come a long way baby!
Over these past 4 decades, we certainly have come a long way and have seen some unbelievable changes..
— Long gone are the days of waiting in K-Mart for a blue light special to grab that special deal. Now we just find the deals online in a matter of seconds so that the item gets delivered to our doorstep the same day!
— I have lived here under 7 presidents – from Reagan to Biden, with some more memorable than others, for different reasons.
— I can’t believe that we used TripTiks, AAA’s spiral bound maps that we used to flip through for navigating road trips. The inventor of GPS should be given a Nobel prize!
— The advent of internet changed the world dramatically. New students arriving for the first time from India today know more about what’s on sale in my neighborhood store here in Lansdale than us.
— I’d also give a Nobel prize to the inventors of cell phones! They changed the whole world in ways that you could not have imagined even twenty years ago! In 1983, when I first came to US, I wrote a letter to my parents informing them that I arrived safely. That letter reached them almost a month later! Today, my dad can wake me up with a (“free”) video call from India to inquire if we are safe from the mass shooting “in America” that he heard about on CNN.
Personally, I have come a long way from that meek Indian guy who walked out of JFK airport in 1983. I am thankful to my extended family as well as close friends that I made along the way from Iowa (who still insist on calling me “Yosh” or “Punati”) to Allentown (who had to put up with my corny jokes for 32 years) to Lansdale (who are like family to us). I am especially thankful to the professors and fellow grad students for their patience, generosity and friendship. Their support in those crucial early days meant a lot and I am forever indebted to all of them.
<My nostalgia piece written in the summer of 1996. It was published in a Telugu Association Ugadi souvenir>
“This is going to be a good movie!!” I declared with an air of confidence. After all, how could I go wrong? I had checked two movie critics on TV, read the review in the Philadelphia Inquirer, and also cruised the Information Highway, via Netscape, to check their reviews. They all gave their equivalent of “two thumbs up!”. “What’s all the hoopla about?” you might say. Well, it’s like this, we haven’t watched a movie in a theater in almost two years, and since we (my wife and I) were both off from work on a Wednesday (the kids would be in school) we decided to seize the opportunity and go to a good movie.
We walked into the nearest multiplex, which housed at least 9 little theaters. It was matinee time and there was no one waiting to buy the tickets. The guy on the other side of the ticket counter was quite excited to see us! When we walked into the tiny theater, we looked around and noticed that there were a grand total of 5 people there (including us). The place itself was slightly bigger than our bedroom (no, I am not bragging about the size of our bedroom!).
Picture Palaces of the Deccan
What a great contrast this was from the massive theaters of Hyderabad, such as Maheswari, Parameswari, Farheen, Ramakrishna 70mm, Sangeet or Sangam. The word “Grand” comes to mind when you think of some of these theaters – with their spiral staircases, water fountains, elaborate tableau settings for the new movies, and giant size cutouts of the stars (with huge garlands, of course). The only tiny movie theater in Hyderabad back then was Lighthouse, near the Fatehmaidan/GunFoundry area. We saw “Dr. No” (James Bond) in Lighthouse (in my 5th grade), and were surprised by the tiny hall. Later Lighthouse specialized in showing “A” rated Malayalam movies.
There were of course older theaters, which suffered competition from these new ones, but they used to have a niche market, in the form of Morning Shows – of old, popular Black and White movies for which there was always a market. Theaters like – Regal (Khairatabad), Rahat Mahal (Musheerabad), Lata (Nampally) and Tasveer Mahal (Langar House) used to be in this category. I heard that the owner of Tasveer Mahal used to hang lungis on both sides of the screen when he had to show a Cinemascope or 70mm movie 😊. I have a feeling that most of these don’t exist anymore, probably having made way for more lucrative shopping centers or high-rise apartments.
Shanti Theater – Narayanguda, HyderabadSangeet – SecunderabadUncle took us all to Dr. No in Ligthhouse (circa 1971)
Even the process of buying the tickets had a whole different charm to it back then. One had to go and wait in queue hours in advance (especially if it was a new release). After all the pushing and shoving, there was no guarantee that you would get the tickets. There were separate queues for women, which used to be considerably shorter than men’s queues. As the situation got desperate you would see some quick thinking men try to convince some women to buy the tickets for them. Most of the time this approach never worked. But, once in a while one of those women would take pity on the poor soul and oblige. Another common tactic was to approach the front of the queue and just barge in. Now, this only worked if you had the appropriate “look” – such as muscular build, partly unbuttoned short, a hairy chest and an arrogant expression which said “So, what are you going to do about it?”. You won’t understand the thrill of actually getting those tickets in your hand, unless you had ever experienced the disappointment of facing the “Housefull” sign at the ticket counter after going through the ordeal. Of course, you could always locate the “black wallah”, (scalper) who would be wandering around muttering “paanch ka dus, paanch ka dus” (Rs. 10 for the Rs. 5 ticket).
Waiting in the queue wasn’t always boring. Sometimes we made new friends and bonded, while we planned to foil those “goonda type” guys standing over there, from crashing the queue. In the end we would get philosophical when we realized the futility of trying to stop these goons, and start saying things like “Where is this country headed.. What is happening to morality, humanity.. ?”
Grand Experiences to Cherish
Once inside, there used to be quite a preamble before the actual movie started, in the form of advertisements, trailers, documentaries and Indian News Review. Growing up, there were no televisions and no commercials on radio (remember, we just had the basic AIR station. Vividh Bharati, with commercials came much later), so the ads in the movie theaters were the only effective way companies could actually impress the people to buy their stuff. There were the popular sports figures of those days – Ramnath Krishnan, Sunil Gavaskar, Farrokh Engineer etc. lending their weight to coffee, Brylcreem etc. Remember “Suchitra” trying to sell the merits of Horlicks (or was it Bournvita?). This is where we got our first look at the ads for Vicco Vajradanti, Charminar Cigarettes and the Liril girl doing her thing at the waterfalls.
The government did a good job educating the masses via their documentaries and News Reviews (NR). All I remember of the NRs is that most of them had the prime minister or other VIPs, meeting some foreign dignitaries or inaugurating a bridge or a dam or surveying flood damages etc. The impression I had of Bihar, from the NRs was that of a place that was constantly under flood water – every NR that I saw used to have some equivalent of “Beehaarulo varadalu” (floods in Bihar) item, with sad violin music, and helicopters dropping relief supplies to people precariously perched on rooftops.
Just before the actual movie started, it was customary (probably a requirement) to show the Censor Board’s Certificate. It was a curious habit of some in the audience to read aloud the “number of reels” from the certificate and do a quick mental calculation to determine the length of the movie. The audiences of yesteryears felt that they got their money’s worth if the movie lasted at least 3 hours. It wasn’t uncommon for the audience to throw coins at the screen to show their appreciation of the actors/dancers etc. I have seen them applaud the hero when he got out of a particularly melodramatic cliffhanger with flying colors. I am sure you heard of audiences of mythological movies which actually offered a “haraathi” right in the middle of the theater.
Movies were cheap, wholesome fun for the entire family, and we loved every minute of the process of picking and going to the movie as much as the movie itself – right from the moment we selected the movie by poring over the last 2 pages of the neighbor’s copy of that day’s Deccan Chronicle, to going to the theater hours in advance, to the pushing and shoving in order to obtain the coveted tickets.
All this is in striking contrast to the process we went through last Wednesday for our once-in-two-years visit to Eric Theater Multiplex. To add insult to injury, the much recommended movie turned out to be a dud, dull and boring – to match the dull and drab “box-like” theater. As we walked back to the car, we swore (just as we had done in the past!) that in the future we would just rent the (VHS) tape from Blockbuster and watch it at home. As far as I was concerned, that afternoon wasn’t a complete washout, because that experience gave me an opportunity to indulge in a nostalgic trip back to Hyderabad and it’s majestic movie theaters!
I have decided that I will start protecting all my writings with a Certificate of Authenticity!
When folks were worried that robots and computers were coming to take over our jobs, I was the first one to calm people down and say – “Don’t worry! They are here just to make our lives easier! They will help you build those cars faster, safer and better or just to make it easy for the online customer service folks by collecting the initial security data from the callers. They will handle all the mindless jobs and leave us with better paying jobs that will allow us to get home to our families by 5:00pm.”
This morning one of my friends posted a story that was entirely made up by AI software, based on minimal prompts. It was a wonderful story with depth, detailed character descriptions and a display of emotions between the characters like only humans were supposed to be capable of. Totally mind-blowing!
I had to try it out for myself. So, I went to the ChatGPT website and gave it this prompt: “I want you to write a story. About a DIY project fail by a new homeowner. Involves plumbing issue with the kitchen sink. Add a wife, a dog and a cop. Make the story humorous. Make the story one page long.” Then in a few seconds, I got the following story…
Wow! This is a gamechanger! I never thought that the tech guys would threaten the jobs of people in the humanities – writers, poets, journalists and even bloggers like me! What stops folks from making up vivid stories using these AI bots and passing them off as actual news stories? Worrying about college essays will be a thing of the past! Writing that movie script while sitting in a Starbucks with a laptop is no big deal anymore. Anybody can whip it up in seconds! The possibilities are endless and scary!
I was tempted to test the bot one more time. This time I gave a prompt based on my experience from long time ago (you can checkout that story here : Stalking R.K.Narayan ) : “I want you to write a story. About a young fan showing up at the house of writer R.K.Narayan. Make the story humorous. Make the story one page long.” Again, it did an amazing job except for one faux pas! Every fan of R.K.Narayan knows that he is a fanatic about south Indian coffee and that he would not be caught dead drinking tea, let alone offer it to a fawning (and stalking) fan! It is ironic that the AI software which will steal all of our writing jobs wrote (in the story below)“…writing is not always magical as it seems. Sometimes it’s just a lot of hard work and frustration”. 😯
So, yes, while it does come dangerously close to making me obsolete as a blogger of funny, nostalgia pieces, I feel that there is an authenticity that only I and my writing bring to the table (for all 27 of my subscribers) that no AI bot can replicate. This is why I will have to protect my brand of writing from imposters hiding behind AI software by adding a certificate of authentication to all my blog posts.
ChatGPT:Microsoft CEO – invokes Idli, Dosa and Shakespeare in the same sentence!
Just in case the AI bots do kick me out of my creative space, I am looking for backup hobbies/vocations such as a plumber or a male stripper, as these might be some of the few remaining domains that are safe from AI! Although, based on my earlier experience (described here : Trust Me! I Know What I Am Doing…) – I am not too sure if I am actually cut out for plumbing work. Also, is the world really ready for a balding Indian guy with a big belly hanging onto a stripper pole? 😀
I strongly protest these machines encroaching into my precious hobby! There has to be a bloggers’ union that exists purely to protect us in situations like this with an appropriately sized rubber rat to be used outside chatGPT headquarters! “Bloggers of the world unite against chatGPT”?
Meanwhile, I suddenly see me writing the next 10 Toastmasters speeches that I had been putting off, in just a few seconds! Thanks chatGPT 😊
“Keep your F***ing hands to your yourself.. you %#@!..” someone screamed! That certainly got my attention… along with the attention of all the others on the bus. There was more screaming and commotion from the back where it all started. The driver pulled the bus to a side and went back to investigate. After a few more minutes of yelling and screaming it became clear that a guy sitting next to a woman was pawing/pinching/sexually harassing her. We had just left Lincoln, Nebraska, after picking up some passengers. I must have briefly dozed off just as the bus rolled out of the bus station and then this happened. I vividly remember the decisive action taken by the driver. He turned the bus around and drove to the nearest police station and handed that guy off to the police to loud cheering from the passengers. After that brief interlude we were off on our way to Cheyenne, Wyoming.
The way to San Jose
The year was 1985 and I was ready to look for jobs as I neared completion of a Masters degree in Computer Engineering. It was obvious that I had to go to Silicon Valley, which was and still is the mecca for our field, to stand any chance of landing interviews.
Posing in my brand new sports jacket and clip-on tie, for a future blog post (-: (circa 1985)
When I came across a sweet deal from Greyhound – $29 for a round trip from Iowa City to San Francisco, I jumped on it. It did not matter that I would be on the bus for over 52 hours (including breaks and bus changes) covering over 1900 miles. Back then I had all the time in the world and at less than 1 cent per mile, you just couldn’t beat that deal. When I got on the bus, I did realize the significance of traveling more than halfway across the continental United States on the historic Interstate 80, which originates near New York City and ends in San Francisco (2900 miles).
Road trip across the continental US on I-80
By the time we got to Lincoln, Nebraska – I had already spent over 6 hours on the bus, and I was getting used to the ride and the assorted fellow passengers. There was a core group of travelers making the long distance trip and then a lot of others who were just going to the next town or two. I was the only foreigner on the bus. I was getting comfortable making small talk with the folks sitting around me. As expected, they were all curious about me – who was I, what was I doing, where was I headed etc. Today there is a lot of awareness about all things Indian, in the US, but back then, an Indian traveling through some of those parts of the Midwest could be an exotic “object of curiosity”.
The cast of characters
Here’s the motley crew that I was traveling with for most of that trip.
Chris & Terri : A couple in their 20s – going to LA (bonded immediately with Mr. Hollywood -as he was going to LA too).
Mr. Hollywood : A guy in his 20s, a smooth talker, headed to Hollywood who said that he worked in the movie industry. He was throwing around names of different movies he worked on as a technician and the different stars he walked by etc. “One day when I was working late on the sets, Spielberg stopped by to check on the special rig that he had asked for. He is really an awesome guy, but a bit obsessive compulsive… you know the kind, right?” Being a born-skeptic, I could tell that he was making the stuff up, but for some reason the rest of them were totally taken in by the BS he was dishing out.
Mike & Sherri : An older couple – going to Reno – where their son worked in a casino. Mike, who was a Vietnam War veteran seemed to know a thing or two about world affairs. I clearly remember him saying “It’s too bad about Indeera Gandi.” (The Indian prime minister who was assassinated in 1984).
Katy : A good looking and very talkative young woman (probably in her mid 20s) from Des Moines going to visit her cousin in Sacramento.
A rolling soap opera
The incredible stories that I observed and experienced with the fellow passengers during that long trip were truly fascinating and indelible. Greyhound could run a hit reality show by just installing cameras in their buses and making sure to once in a while get extreme close-ups of the passengers with dramatic mood music thrown in for good measure.
The young couple (Chris and Terri) were very bubbly and seemed excited to be starting their new life in California. They were showing off their love for each other quite explicitly as well as quite frequently. They became friends with the Hollywood technician that they met for the first time on the bus. Mr. Hollywood was quite charming and had a good sense of humor. Everyone was enamored by his stories of movie making.
I was quite excited to share a seat with an actual cowboy from Wyoming. We were seatmates from Omaha, Nebraska to Laramie, Wyoming. If I had a camera, it would have been a perfect “Kodak moment” (reference from 80’s and 90’s) or a “selfie moment”. I remember this guy describing a long arduous day on the ranch where he was a cook as well as the farmhand and he listened to me with disbelief, when I described a world where folks did not eat beef (the primary product of their ranch).
Katy was quite outgoing and very friendly with all. But, I was convinced that she especially liked me, because of that one time she might have looked in my direction and smiled. Back then, I was incredibly naïve like that. She definitely had leadership qualities. At the meal stops she would take the initiative to lead the group to the nearby restaurants. When we were stopped at Salt Lake City and had plenty of time, she said -“The Utah Jazz play here… let’s go check it out”. I had no idea who or what Utah Jazz was, back then. I figured she was taking us to some sort of concert hall. But we followed her as if she was the Pied Piper of Salt Lake City. She confidently pointed out places of interest as if she was a tourist guide. Sometimes, I felt like she was just making up stuff, but we all just went along as she was quite entertaining. I clearly remember her commenting about the Mormons –
“They don’t even drink coffee”
“They are allowed to have multiple wives”
“I can’t imagine being part of a harem.. ha ha”
Conned in Laramie
When the bus was about to leave Laramie after our meal break, one of the passengers, Joe (who has been with us since Omaha), was standing outside, holding a brown paper bag, waiting for someone. He told the driver that he was holding this bag of money for someone who he met there and was expected to come back to collect it from him. It seems this person put his cash in the bag along with Joe’s money (eh?) and asked him to hold it till he came back from the restroom. Uh oh! We all thought that was highly suspicious. As we were already running late, the driver asked Joe to open the bag to see if it actually had the money. Well, just as the rest of us suspected, there was nothing but bundles of magazine clippings in the bag. No money whatsoever. Joe was shocked. He seemed like the stereotypical trusting Midwesterner who fell victim to a conman. He reminded me of Woody Harrelson’s character from the TV show “Cheers”. The full force of how he got scammed hit him and he was close to tears. He had given all of his cash to the conman so he could put it in the bag along with his own “cash”. Obviously, the guy did a quick sleight of hand to swap the cash for magazine clippings. We all felt terrible for Joe and gave him some pep talk…
“Don’t worry about it. It can happen to anyone”, comforted Katy.
“Karma will surely catch up with that a**hole”, said Mike.
At the next stop, we all pitched in to buy a sandwich and fries for Joe.
Plot Twist
As the trip progressed, I had front row seat to some changing dynamics. Right from the beginning, I could tell that Terri was taken in by the charms of Mr. Hollywood. Gradually (over the period of 30 hrs. or so), I could see her laughing and hanging out more with him than her boyfriend, who just sat there sulking. By the time we reached Sacramento, she was sitting with the Hollywood guy. That certainly was a dramatic turn of events right in front of our eyes. A true cliffhanger, whose ending I did not know, as I had to get off at the San Francisco stop.
Those People
While it was long and painful, this Greyhound ride gave me a wonderful opportunity to experience a world that I would not have otherwise. I traveled through areas of the US which are often derisively called “fly-by country” – the region between the more popular and populous metro areas of the east and west coasts. After this trip, I realized that it is important for everyone to have similar opportunities to mingle with a wide range of people and learn about them. This sort of interaction (without any agenda of trying to convert others to our way of thinking), is the only way to bring people of different faiths, political leanings and social strata closer, to build bridges and to clear out the negative stereotypes that we all tend to carry with us about “those people”.
Epilogue
I can guarantee you that there is a grandpa in Wyoming who at this very moment is telling the story of how he met an “Indian guy”, a “real Indian guy from India” on a Greyhound bus over 30 years ago and “guess what? He said that they don’t eat beef in India. Can you believe that?”
“That’s no big deal grandpa. I have many Indian friends at school. Some of them eat beef and some don’t. They even gave me these yummy sweets the other day, for their festival of lights – Diwali”.
In the early 90s, as a new homeowner, I took great pride in trying to fix every problem that popped up. This was way before Google or YouTube! I depended on books! Books about plumbing, electrical wiring, appliances etc. So, any problem that we ran into, I’d open these books and go through the troubleshooting charts. Over the years I fixed the garage door opener, dryer, Microwave, toilet leaks etc.
They don’t give these type of T-shirts to just anybody, on Father’s Day, right?
Who are you gonna call : Electrician? Plumber? or a Cop?
This was in the first year of us moving into our new house. I was home with my daughter who was under 2 years old. Suddenly, there was a loud continuous beep that scared the heck out of me!! I panicked and ran around with the baby trying to figure out the source. First I checked out the obvious ones – the smoke detector and Carbon Monoxide alarms. They were all quiet. Yet, the screeching continued. While carrying my daughter with one hand, I started sticking my ear to every appliance in the house. And, they were all fine. In my panic, I ran over to my neighbor and had him come over to help me figure this one out. Jim has been a home owner for lot longer that us and he was a pretty handy guy. I figured he would get to the bottom of this right away. Unfortunately, NO! Even he gave up after checking for the usual suspects throughout house. We even stood in the backyard and could hear the entire house shrieking. He suggested the security system. Ah.. that’s an obvious possibility! How did I overlook that one? I ran back in and entered the passcode to try and shut it off. No!! .. no luck! That did not stop it. In desperation, convinced that it was the security system that was causing this racket, I snipped the wires going into the keypad and, still the ear piercing decibels continued. On top of that, I accidentally let go of the wires, which slipped back into the drywall, never to be seen again! Oops! Then in a move that makes absolutely no sense, in complete desperation, I decided to call the police! How or why is a beeping/screeching house a police problem? I don’t know. Unlike now, I was not very bright back then. The policeman showed up. I have to say, he was very sincere in his attempt to get to the source of the problem. Unfortunately it was exactly the things we already tried. Yes, up and down all floors, the smoke alarm, the appliances and even the security system. He then expressed his helplessness, and said we should call the utility company or the security system company.
After everyone left, I was outside with my daughter, when Uma came home. I explained the drama behind the screeching house. We were convinced that something bad was going to happen. Like the house was going to explode! Why did I think that? Because I’ve always had a vivid and dramatic imagination!
Uma and I started going through room after room and checking all detectors etc. again. I was in the kitchen when she shouted from upstairs that it stopped beeping up there. Hmm.. that’s great.. but it was still beeping in the kitchen. I went upstairs to check, while Uma wanted to poke around the stove. Wait! what is she talking about? It is still screeching upstairs! Meanwhile Uma said it also stopped in the kitchen. What?? Wait! Hold on! At that same instance it occurred to both of us that it was beeping wherever I was! Whhat? Yes, the sound seems to be coming from me! Holy Moly! Yes indeed! It was coming from my Casio digital watch. Goodness! Looks like it got stuck in some kind of a faulty alarm mode. And of course, whoever was with me heard it as well – the neighbor and the policeman. As soon as I powered it down the screeching racket ended!
If this ever got out to the neighbors or the police, we would be the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood (not to mention the police station). So, we hushed it up. No one ever brought this up. It’s almost like it never happened!
My handy work over the years!
The Kitchen Sink Conundrum
There was this other time when the kitchen sink was not draining. After examining it closely, I declared that all the leftover rice that gets dumped in the sink would clog up the pipes, just like cholesterol that clogs up the arteries. I loved medical analogies and used them every chance I got.
The very first attempt to clear the clog was using a snake, which is a “long flexible metal tube” that is pushed into pipes to clear clogs. I shoved the snake into the sink pipes and gave it a good twist to clear whatever was stopping the water from draining. Unfortunately, this did not clear the clog! That meant I had to go with a longer snake or to the more invasive “surgical” option. I opted for the latter, because that seemed like a more probable solution (and sounded more thrilling too). So, I traced the pipes under the sink and followed them down into the finished basement. I then took off the ceiling tiles, to locate the correct pipe (among the multitude of PVC pipes there). By strategically knocking on the pipe and confirming a dull thud, I determined which section was clogged. I explained what I was planning to do, to Uma – just as any surgeon would, to his 1st year residents before making the first incision. After placing a bucket on the floor to collect the dirty water, I started to cut. The bucket did catch some of the dirty water but most of it drained on me and the floor. Uma was not a happy camper! She complained about the mess and kept repeating that I “should call someone who knows what they are doing”. I tried to explain to Uma that – yes, it is messy, but this is equivalent to a heart surgeon operating for a bypass surgery. There is bound to be a bloody mess. Finally, I managed to cut off the 5 foot section of the pipe and carefully carry it out and looked through the hole – expecting to see a clog that blocked the pipe. But, shockingly, it was completely clean! No clog at all! Damn! How did my theory about the rice-clog fail so badly?
Now the pressure to call a professional increased dramatically! I was getting discouraged. First step was to put the PVC pipe back in place using the standard purple cleaner and glue. Once that was done, I was theorizing that maybe the clog was further down and maybe I should start cutting the pipe at a different place. This was the last straw for Uma! She started screaming at me and asked me to make the call. I finally reluctantly relented and was about to call “Roto Rooter”, all the while mumbling that I was a good handyman. Just then Uma realized that the stopper/strainer was turned 90 degrees in the sink thereby stopping the water from draining. She turned it around and it drained completely! So, there was really nothing wrong with the pipes and I had performed an unnecessary surgery on the poor pipe! Oops!! Oh Well..
After Uma got done laughing uncontrollably, I made her agree to a deal that we will never ever mention this to another soul! We will put this incident away in our time capsule for 30 years, at which time the story will be unearthed and shared on Blogs and Social media posts in exchange for cheap laughs and “likes”!
By the way, these were the only two times that I ever made a fool of myself while fixing things around the house. After these, all other household handyman/DIY fixes were all handled perfectly by me! No issues at all. I can say that confidently here, because the fact-checker isn’t on Facebook and doesn’t read my blogs, to dispute this..🤪
It was the rocky terrain between our colony and Banjara Hills. The battle lines were drawn. There were probably 5 or 6 on our side, ranging in age from 10 – 12. On the other side, three of them : Nagarjuna (son of ANR, the top hero of Telugu movie industry at that time), his sidekick and a dog. We had never seen Nagarjuna before, but knew of him through movie industry gossip. It was Sankranti season, which is also the kite flying season in Hyderabad.
Nagarjuna
Nothing stands out as more uniquely Hyderabadi than the “pathang” (kite flying) season. This typically starts off about a month before January 14th, which is Sankranti, the harvest festival. In the countryside it is celebrated with uniquely farmer centric festivities, but in the city it is always the kite flying! There would be thousands of kites of all different colors and sizes. Kids would be flying these from the roof tops and getting into friendly (and sometimes not-so friendly) kite-fights, where the goal is for you to cut the other guy’s “maanja” (thread coated with finely crushed glass). Everyone has his own closely guarded secret as to how they achieve this! Once the thread is cut the winner gloats by loudly screaming and cheering. The “loser” sadly and quietly sulks and winds up his “charkha” to come back with a new pathang/kite and maybe better maanja and/or technique. But the kite that was cut loose and is freely floating away is free for anyone to grab. This is the secondary fun aspect of the whole game. Those who catch these and use them in their own “fights” are experts in their own right and have a fan following as well.
Sankranti Kite Flying in today’s Hyderabad
This brings us back to the tense standoff on those rocks, during the Sankranti season circa 1972. Shockingly, it appeared like these guys from the Banjara Hills high society had come down to the middle class neighborhood to run after and catch some wayward kites! We, of course, were there purely to protect our turf! They were definitely out of place and encroached into our “ilaqa” (territory). Maybe his dad (ANR) did not have that conversation about the shadowy places in the rocks where Nagarjuna was not supposed to go to (obviously this was way before Mufasa had a similar conversation with Simba). We had so many questions : “These guys are stinking rich, why are they running after these cheap kites? They can probably buy hundreds or even thousands if they want to”. We were genuinely puzzled, but they were probably in it for the same adventure and thrills that we were seeking. Also, they were probably curious to see how the commoners lived and played.
The battlefield
The fight started, like all fights do, with a barrage of finely targeted insults at the appropriate family members (“yo mama is ..” type). Then someone from our side came up with a gem – “Your dad is having an affair with Vani Sree”! Vani Sree was the leading lady in many of ANR’s movies at that time. I was super impressed with the kid in our group who had this kind of general knowledge (“National Inquirer/ People Magazine” level gossip). I am not even sure if this “insult” ever made it all the way to the enemy side, but it did score a lot of points on our side, with everyone in agreement that it was a brilliant zinger! I am not sure who threw the first stone, but they started flying fast and furious. We outnumbered them 2 to 1, yet no one scored a hit! We heard them trying to sic the dog onto us (“Smoky” I believe his name was). In the end the whole thing fizzled out. We all ran out of steam and insults to throw. It definitely wasn’t the rocks. There were plenty of them. Luckily no one got hurt. The whole incident probably lasted less than 10 minutes. We all went back to our families and bragged about how we saved the colony from invading movie star kids!
It’s amazing that this is still in my memory after almost half a century! I have to see if any of my buddies who were there remember this incident. I am pretty sure that Nagarjuna (who is now a super star in his own right) thinks about the incident every year at Sankranti time 🤪. I can very well imagine who the heroes and villains are in his retelling of the incident.
A “brand new tradition” is an oxymoron, similar to a “brand new antique”! There are traditions passed down from generation to generation, such as “Mundan”, the ritualistic clean shave that kids get when they are about 1 year old. We all went through that in India and continued it for my daughters (here in the US) and again did so recently for my grandson. Then there are “brand new traditions” such as the ones we started in our family a few decades ago here in the US and still continuing today. Watching back-to-back movies on New Year’s eve is one such tradition that I am very proud of. Taking a nap on Sunday afternoons on the sofa is an example of one that I am not so proud of. 😊
In preparation for the New Year’s eve, we would first try to get a consensus on which movies we wanted to watch. With four strong willed folks making up our family unit, you can well imagine that this was not an easy task. At first blush, it might seem like this consensus-making was slightly manipulated. But, based on the number of hours that we got subjected to “Barney”, “Matilda”, “Lion King” and “Jungle Book”, we figured that we the parents, should be allowed some leeway in manipulating the list of movies to watch 😊. Once we narrowed the list down (without any help from Google or IMDB etc.), it was my job to hunt these movies down from either Blockbuster rentals or the local public library. One year (most likely 2003), I randomly picked up the VHS tapes for “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” and “Inherit The Wind” from the Library, mainly because these were the crumbs left behind after everyone else cleared out the sought-after popular ones.
Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner (GWCTD) (7.8/10 on IMDB; Available on Youtube/Amazon pay option)
“Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” was and is an amazing social drama that deals with interracial marriage in the 1960s and was a pathbreaker in so many different ways. Such marriages only became legal in the US in 1967 (just 6 months before this film was released). It features brilliant portrayal by all the actors, especially stalwarts – Spencer Tracy , Katherine Hepburn and Sidney Poitier. The theme of interracial marriage and the powerful dialog and interactions depicted could easily apply to inter-faith and inter-caste marriages that we routinely come across in India.
While the theme is serious, the rational discussion and reasoning between all these adults that are trying to explain/convince others without resorting to the kind of histrionics that we normally associate with such themes is very refreshing. It’s a powerful movie that packs a lot in under 2 hours. Do not miss it.
Spencer Tracy never saw the movie – as he died 17 days after completion of his shoots. It seems that Katherine Hepburn never saw the movie either- as she felt that it would be too emotional for her (She and Spencer were a couple in real life).
A future black US President predicted in 1967!
Inherit the Wind (ITW) ( 8.1/10 on IMDB; Available for rent on YouTube. The 1988 version with Jason Robards and Kirk Douglas is free on Amazon Prime).
This was a total fluke for me. I had never heard of “Inherit the Wind”. I only picked it up because it was right next to “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” on the shelf and I had to grab one last VHS before the library closed.
..and what a pick this turned out to be! The story is simple and based on a real case from Tennessee known as the “Scopes Monkey Trial”. It’s about a teacher, who, in 1925, was tried for teaching Evolution in school, which was against the law back then.
This movie has the potent mix of religion, science and fiery oratory – from the high profile lawyers on the case played by Oscar winners Spencer Tracy and Frederic March. Unlike his usual song and dance roles, Gene Kelly plays a wise-cracking reporter and does so brilliantly. I strongly recommend this classic courtroom drama which is in the same league as “12 Angry Men” and “To Kill a Mockingbird”
Fiery courtroom drama!
Trivia : In 1960, “Inherit the Wind” became the world’s first “in-flight” movie when Trans World Airlines used it to lure first-class passengers (this is from a note on the DVD box).
While watching Inherit the Wind, I realized that the director of both of these movies was the same guy – Stanley Kramer! I had never heard of his name before or paid attention to his works. I later found out that Kramer was a giant in the area of social issue-based movies, which he produced and directed.
After that year, re-watching these two movies on New Year’s eve became our fallback option/tradition, if we could not agree on any other movies as a family. When we first started watching, our daughters were only 12 and 9 (in 2003), and were going to Middle school and Elementary school respectively. Even though you would think that these two movies would be slightly above their level (intellect/level of maturity – for that age) – they not only understood the adult themes and dialogs but actually thoroughly enjoyed them. As a matter of fact, they used to request to re-watch them in later years.
After a couple of years, I ended up buying these two DVDs, just so we will always have them when needed. Of course, this was before the abundance of streaming services and choices that we have today.
I was very surprised to find that “Inherit The Wind” was recently adapted into Indian cinema . “The Holy Conspiracy” – which is primarily in Bengali and English has legendary actors Soumitra Chattopadhyay and Naseeruddin Shah in the lead roles. I can’t wait to watch it to see how it compares with the original and also to see if the theme works in the Indian context. This movie is the perfect vehicle to tackle the topics of religion, education and pseudo-science and will be effective as long as the audiences go in with an open mind. I wish they had dubbed it in Hindi and the other regional languages for a wider reach.
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World ( 7.5/10 on IMDB; Available for rent on YouTube and Amazon Prime).
The next year, when I picked up “It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world” for our New Year’s eve marathon – I was pleasantly surprised, when I realized that this was yet another Stanley Kramer movie. With this zany comedy, he proved beyond a doubt that he had an amazing range (from serious drama to silly comedy). While I had not come across the other two movies before, this one I had watched in Hyderabad, India (in Liberty Theater, in Basheerbagh) back in the late 70s. It’s a riotous slapstick comedy that had us in splits from the get-go. At that time I probably only understood about 50% of the dialog and definitely had no idea about the amazing cast and famous cameos that were assembled for this production. It’s a literal who’s-who of comedy scene of that time. Only recently did I catch the cameos by Carl Reiner, “The Three Stooges” and both the landlords from the sitcom “Three’s Company” – Norman Fell and Don Knotts. I would definitely rank it among the greatest comedies of all time.
It’s a zany, zany, zany, zany comedy!
These three movies are absolute gems that came from the creative genius that is Stanley Kramer. Of course, in addition to the director, Spencer Tracy is the brilliant common factor in all three movies and he shines through even when surrounded by other greats like Sidney Poitier, Kate Hepburn, Frederic March, Mickey Rooney, Gene Kelly and Milton Berle. Please check them all out for yourself and let me know which of these Kramer movies is your favorite. Pease share your thoughts/feedback in the comments section below.
My voice has always been faint. I joked that if I ever was in trouble and needed to scream to save my life, that would be the end of me for sure. There I was standing at the gate of this very unique cottage-like house on Banjara Hills Road No. 1. Screaming at top of my lungs (so I thought). “Un-day, Un-day” (rhymes with “sunday”). That is just the Hindi word for eggs. I was probably 10 or 11 years old. It was my assigned chore to go buy eggs from this particular place. In the posh Banjara Hills area, this “poultry” was quite an incongruence. It was the house of a retired government official (IAS officer). It seems his married son lived there and raised chickens in a small shed on that cute compound, probably as a hobby. They were Muslims and probably Hindi/Urdu speakers, hence my use of the Hindi, instead of my mother tongue of Telugu. I used to show up with my egg carton once every couple of weeks and scream “Un-Day” and that gentleman would take the plastic carton and fill it up with half dozen eggs. Of all the chores that I helped out at that time, this was the one that I hated the least. The other ones, like getting wheat or chickpeas milled into flour at the at the ‘girni’ (flour mill) in the neighboring colony meant walking with a bucket full of wheat, past my friends who would be having fun playing and for some reason that was embarrassing for ten year old me. They all probably had servants or parents themselves taking care of these type of tasks and I was convinced that they were all looking-down on me and mocking me lugging the bucket down the street. I did not have the smarts or the self-confidence at that time to turn it into a “Tom-Sawyer-painting-the-fence” type of clever retort or comeback.
ANR
That Sunday morning, as I left with my carton full of eggs, I noticed the tourist bus pull up in front of the palatial home of ANR, just about a block from the poultry-house. Akkineni Nageswara Rao (ANR), was one of two top matinee idols of the Telugu movie industry at that time. ANR and NTR (the other heartthrob hero of that time) were the equivalent of “Raj Kapoor and Devanand” of Bollywood or “Paul Newman and Robert Redford” of Hollywood, in popularity.
ANR acted in 250 movies in a career spanning 7 decades. He ruled the roost of Telugu movie industry for decades and was at his peak in the 60s and 70s. He was credited for single-handedly moving the Telugu industry from Madras (current day Chennai) , which was the center of the the industry back then, to Hyderabad. He built this house in Banjara Hills in the late 60s. We kids from our neighborhood walked around the construction site when the building was going up and marveled at the number of rooms, the sizes of these rooms and the marble flooring. Once his family started living there we never saw them. We would walk by hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but the best we did was to see the gardener watering the roses.
The happening scene on Road No. 1, Banjara Hills!
That of course was good enough for us. We went around telling everyone that we lived so close to ANR’s house that we even saw his gardener! While Banjara Hills was sparsely populated by the super rich, we lived in SVR Nagar, a middle class colony of mostly government employees, living in one or two storied houses packed tightly with compound walls separating them. The women typically were housewives. Kids played cricket or dodgeball or Gilli-Danda in the small patch of land or sometimes right on the road in front of our house. The area between our house and Road No. 1 of Banjara Hills was full of rocks (some as high as 20 – 30 feet) and hillocks. Growing up, we used to spend hours playing hide-and-seek and “rock climbing” on these. Today, every inch of this land is “developed” – a euphemism for filling up of all open spaces with houses, apartments/flats and shopping malls.
In front of the famous rocks of SVR Colony (circa 1970). I’m the one on the far left. (pc. Surekha)
Back in the simpler times of the early 70s – I had heard about ANR’s house being on the tourist map of Hyderabad, along with Charminar, Salar Jung Museum, Golconda Fort and Birla Mandir. But this was the first time I actually saw a tourist bus pull up. A crowd of tourists piled out and were standing in front of the gate, probably admiring the gardens and rose bushes. When I saw the gates open up and the tourists rush in, I ran and joined them, with an egg carton full of fresh eggs in my hand. The excitement was palpable! There he was, standing just a few feet outside the house, on the driveway. He looked fresh, and was wearing traditional Andhra Panche-kattu. He started off with very warm and friendly pleasantries. Just a casual conversation, of the kind that happens in every household. From the accents and the dressing style, I could tell that the tourists were all farmers from rural Andhra Pradesh (our state). There was some back and forth about farming season, harvests and rains that I could only get a gist of. After all, I was a city-bred ten year old. For someone who was “up there” in social status and riches, I remember him being extremely cordial and empathetic. He exhibited genuine interest in their well-being. There was a barrage of questions from the crowd about his upcoming movies and heroines that he will be acting with in these. Unfortunately, I did not know enough about his movies to get anything more than a surface level grasp of this part of the conversation either. Soon after, he bid the group good bye, turned around and went back in. There were no photos or selfies to capture the moment for posterity! Just indelible images stored away forever, only to be recollected for a future blog such as this. Of course, I came home with an ear-to-ear grin and some exaggerated stories to regale my family and friends.
Flashback in black and white
Within the next year, I got to see ANR one more time, at an outdoor filming of a song for a Telugu movie. This was also on the same Road Number 1, just a couple blocks to the right of the poultry. These sort of movie shoots used to be fairly commonplace in Banjara Hills and later in Jubilee Hills. We got word through the Colony grapevine that there was one happening with ANR and Kanchana (heroine). We rushed there and hung around for hours outside the house where two lines (literally 2 lines!) of a song were shot for hours in the front yard of the house. There was a horde of tech people manning cameras, lights and reflectors. I found this first exposure to movie-making to be fascinating. After watching several such shoots, I realized that, for the creative and artsy people who are involved in fine-tuning the scenes this could be fun, but for the rest (even fanboys like me) it could easily get tedious and boring. After rushing over and watching a few more such shoots, I got over the thrill very quickly. Over the years I did “meet” a couple of movie stars – one from the ANR era and another one closer to my age, in very interesting circumstances. But that story’s for another post…
I am so glad that the Youtube algorithm targeted me last week with something beyond the usual street food videos from Thailand or old MadTV comedy clips (my latest obsession).. and I am equally glad that I did not ignore it!
Yesterday when I casually clicked on this black and white Youtube video, I did not realize what a goldmine I was unearthing! Yes.. I landed on videos of debates and unrehearsed discussions (sometimes labeled “The world we want”) between International “High School Exchange Students” in New York City, in the 1950s. The students, one representing each country were invited to the US for 3 months, to stay with 3 different host families and attend multiple high schools during that period. They were all selected by their respective Ministries of Education via a nationwide competition in their countries.
This is the first one that I watched – about religion, featuring high school kids from Pakistan, India , Brazil and UK. The candor with which these high schoolers discussed this topic while being totally respectful to each other’s differences was mind blowing. When I grow up, I want to be just like these kids… 😊
These teenagers back in 1950s discussing a multitude of topics ranging from School uniforms, popular dances and dating to serious concepts like religion, prejudice, colonialism, Communism and Education systems so maturely just warmed up my heart! Such clarity of thought by the youngsters is so inspiring! These kids could teach a masterclass in polite debate and discussion to all our TV pundits. They are extremely honest and held nothing back. The moderator Mrs. Waller does a brilliant job by providing just the right amount of fuel for the discussion to thrive among the youngsters and jumping in as necessary to guide it along. One striking thing I observed was that most of these kids look much more mature (both physically and mentally) than their age.
I later found a total of 85 such clips (each ~27 mins long) in this archive, which I have already started binging (Yes.. they are very addictive. So, be forewarned!). The kids were slightly younger than my parents would have been at that time, and would have had a front row seat to – World war II, Colonialism, Independence to India and Malaya, formation of Israel, racial segregation, Communism and Cold war, etc. It’s like opening an amazing time capsule!
Scan through the entire list below and pick one that you would like to sample and see (with the gift of hind sight) if those kids managed to get the “World they wanted”!
The park is the midway point on my morning walk. It was actually supposed to be a “morning run”, but most of the days it is no more than a stroll – as I slow down to admire the landscaping or flowers in people’s yards along the way. I had captured some amazing photos on this route – blue skies, bright colored flowers and sun peeking through varieties of Maple.
Today was a different kind of beauty. The thick fog that cloaked the trees in the park would be a wonderful backdrop for a selfie, I thought. I positioned myself such that I would get the trees in the background with enough light on my face. I was getting quite good at this selfie thing (for a guy my age, of course). I was engrossed in appreciating my face on the iPhone while framing the photo.
Me : 💭 Let me capture from a lower angle.. No point highlighting my bald spot. I am glad I shaved before the walk. I don’t want to look shabby in this selfie. I wonder if I should post it on Facebook or maybe just our family group on Whatsapp? How about Nextdoor? The neighborhood folks really liked my photos the last time I posted them. 💭
Being so absorbed I did not notice the lady with her dog who was directly in front of me about 20 feet or so away.
Lady :💭 I wish Buddy (dog) would hurry up and do his thing. I should get back to breakfast and get the kids ready for the summer camp. It’s going to be a crazy day at work, with Jack being out and I’ll have to cover for him.. and .. wait!! What’s this creepy guy doing? Why is he recording me? Dammit! I was warned about such people. It’s too quiet here. There’s nobody else around. I should start carrying my pepper spray on these walks 💭
Me : 💭 Calm down… don’t worry about the dog. I know it’s coming at me but “if you ignore them they will go away” – is what I was told. After all these years of being married to Uma, looks like I might have picked up traces of her dog phobia! 💭
Lady : “Hey! hey! What are you doing?”
Me : 💭 Oh good… looks like she is going to stop the dog from attacking me! That’s really nice of her. I should be wrapping up my selfie masterpiece and get out of here!💭
The dog is now so close that it could lick my ankle.. (or take a bite of my juicy calf… it could go either way), so I stayed frozen. The lady walked up… hopefully to get the dog away from me, right?
Lady : “What are you doing? Why are you recording my dog?”
Me : “What? 😳 Oh no! I was just taking a selfie. See… here’s the one I just took”
She quickly realized her mistake and was visibly embarrassed and profusely apologetic. I mumbled “It’s Ok. Don’t worry about it”. As she walked away, she shook her head and said “This is funny… This could be written up as comedy.”
I am a big fan of the “put yourself in the other person’s shoes” philosophy. There is absolutely no reason for the lady to apologize. Think about it – What if I was actually a creep who is out on the prowl with a camera and capturing women walking around for whatever creepy reason. There was no possible way for her to know that I was indulging in some harmless self-admiration for the sake of social media. Both of our viewpoints are valid and harmless. You can see how something like this could spiral into an incident – if either (or both) of us was hot headed and confrontational.
Like she said… It could easily be the start of a sitcom scene or even a clever “Candid Camera” or “Just for Laughs” gag. 😀
On my way back, I captured this doe (a deer, a female deer 🎵), who posed fearlessly with quizzing looks.
Even the seasoned veterans of the Forest Department and the locals could not believe their eyes that we could have such a close encounter with the tiger for such a long time on that day! I had initially assumed that running into a tiger in the Nagarahole National Forest (Karnataka, India) was a fairly routine occurrence. But, based on the super exuberant salivating reactions of the Forest veterans, who kept clicking away to record this majestic beast during it’s most regal stroll, I realized how lucky we were to have a such a closeup darshan of this great Bengal Tiger!
Royal Bengal Sherni!
In addition to the tiger, we also saw : herds of Spotted deer (Chital), Sambar deer, packs of wild dogs, Gaur (bison), Mongoose and Langur (monkeys), Spotted owl, Serpent eagle and Wild Fowl
Just Another Day At The Jungle!
I did not have a camera that weighed 20 pounds to capture extreme closeups of the tiger’s nose hairs from a distance, but my Iphone8 did a fairly decent job… and there’s no way I could have called or texted the kids using the 20 pound Nikon!
King of The Nagarahole National Park
Here’s the rest of the wildlife that we encountered that day…
Wildlife of Nagarahole National Park
Later that day…
Me (calling my kids excitedly): Guess what? We had three sightings of a tiger today in the Nagarahole National Park! It was marking it’s territory and we followed it for almost an hour!!
———————————————–
Elsewhere…
Tiger (to its cubs):Guess what?? Today, I had 3 sightings of a Jeep full of dinner! Lucky for them that I was not in the mood for Indian today. Next time I will stick my tongue out and wink at them!! It will definitely go viral on YouTube/Facebook/Twitter!!
Tiger’s partner :Did you make sure to pee on the trees like I asked you to? They do seem to lose their sh*t when you do that, don’t they? Also, did you try roaring? That impresses them too! Although, the other animals don’t seem to care anymore!
Tiger (trying it’s best Rodney impression) :That’s right! No respect.. I get no respect at all.. I tell yeah! This sucks! We really should get the “King of the Jungle” title back from the Lions! BTW, all this whispering of the tourists is driving me crazy! I have a feeling that they are talking about me behind my back...
Tiger’s Partner :We should tell Forest department that we will not do these tourist appearances anymore, till they start increasing our food ration and also stop recording our love making! I hate doing these “Wild” Life videos. We need some privacy back in our lives!
There is a ton of cooking in “The Great Indian Kitchen” (TGIK) (on Amazon Prime), just as you would expect it. You will see repeated closeups of Dosa making as well as many other traditional Kerala favorites like Idiyappam, Puttu, fish, Sambar and stone ground coconut chutney etc. But this is not the movie for drooling over such. I can recommend several wonderful Mark Weins’ videos on YouTube for such material. The camera does focus on the stove and the minute details of the cooking as though it were a cooking show, but the focus is primarily on the lady who is cooking and the nuances in the expressions that mirror her emotions. The kitchen, the dining room or bedroom are mere backdrops for the interplay between the characters and a whole lot that is non-verbal as well.
TGIK poignantly depicts the rapid transformation of a new bride into a servile machine whose only purpose is to serve the men of this middle class household in Kerala, India. There is nothing uniquely Keralan about the theme itself. It could very well be anywhere in India – hence the title “The Great IndianKitchen”. It took me a few minutes into the movie to realize the sarcastic nature of the title.
I was blown away by the brilliant acting of every single actor. The lead actress – Nimisha Sajayan conveys so much of her angst without saying much! The sub-titles are done very well and there’s a lot more that is said through her vivid expressions than through the dialog. My wife was so taken in by the story and acting that she was screaming very specific instructions to the actress about what she should throw and at whom – just the way any average American would at the Quarterback, while watching Monday night football!
Online, it was heartening to see several comments from young men who recognized themselves and their households in the movie, which held up a mirror to highlight the chauvinistic, uncaring and oppressive system for women. If the movie brings about this realization even in a fraction of the viewers, then the director’s goal would be achieved. I can tell that this is a product of intense passion for the writer/director who felt strongly enough about this topic of chauvinism to highlight it in such a fashion, in spite of possible backlash from “traditionalists” who would love for the status quo to continue. You will notice that it is not just the men who oppress. There are women right there to enable this patriarchy, and in some cases even take the lead in the name of customs and traditions.
I loved this movie and strongly recommend it. It moved us and I can guarantee that it will do the same to you! TGIK obviously is not a date-night movie. I am sure you can find a whole lot of song and dance desi ones or even Hollywood ones for that. I am a brand new fan of Malayalam cinema. They seem to be at a totally different level of the craft. I just finished watching “Kumbalangi Nights” (superb acting by the ensemble cast) and “Ayyappanum Koshiyum”, and added a whole lot of other Malayalam movies to my watchlist. I will be busy for a while watching and writing reviews for these and so will not be available to help out with the chores around the house🤪
I am not embarrassed to admit that “Airplane” or “Naked Gun” or even “DieHard” are my favorite go-to movies (for the umpteenth time) rather than risk watching a complete dud. So, for me to fall in love with a drama series about an Ultra Orthodox Jewish extended family’s story was totally surprising. Thanks to the pandemic induced house-arrest over the past year, we finally started getting our money’s worth from the Netflix subscription. I loved the mini series “Unorthodox” on Netflix, which gave us a window into the lives of the Orthodox Jewish sect of Satmar in Brooklyn, New York. I found their coexistence with the rest of the secular world fascinating! Right after we got done with “Unorthodox”, the Netflix algorithm started pushing “Shtisel” on me. A few weeks ago I (thankfully) succumbed to it and started watching this series about yet another Ultra Orthodox Jewish sect (the Haredi) set in Jerusalem. I absolutely loved the show which beautifully covered the trials and tribulations of the Shtisel family. I got so obsessed with the show that I constantly talked about the story, the subplots and the characters at the dinner table which amused and possibly even annoyed my wife.
The Shtisel clan
What is so special about this show? The crisp, intricate story and dialogs stand out along with the multi-dimensional colorful characters. Every single one of the characters is delightful in their own ways. The acting is nothing short of brilliant. The viewer is inexorably drawn into their day-to-day life and we get to feel their joys, anger, sorrows, subtle humor and even hints of unexpected mischief.
When grandma Shtisel gets addicted to soap operas at the nursing home, one of her grandsons sneakily cuts the cord (quite literally) of the TV! When Giti’s son wants to get married to a different girl (and not the one chosen by his parents), Giti screams – “Over my dead body!”. That seemed SO Indian! Every single Indian movie used to have this line, immediately followed by a version of “You will not get a penny of inheritance from me”. The constant teasing and belittling of Akiva’s interest in art by his dad and uncle also reminded me of similar attitudes of Indian parents towards their kids. Growing up in India, parents always looked down upon art and literature etc. as career choices. It always had to be medicine or engineering! One unique thing I noticed in the show is that there are no fixed good guys or bad guys for the entirety of the show (just like in real life). Who you see as a bad guy in an episode, turns out to be a good guy under other circumstances, as the show progresses. Of all the characters of the show – the one that left a very strong impression on me was that of Shulem (Dov Glickman) – the patriarch who is very quirky and resourceful. He is either helping solve the jams that his kids or grandkids find themselves in, or stringing along (inadvertently, perhaps even playfully) some old widows who hoped to marry him (even showing up at their doorstep at an odd hour with a “Brizel Cheesecake”). The series showcases brilliant acting by the entire team and especially outstanding performances by Dov Glickman (Shulem), Michael Aloni (Akiva), Neta Riskin (Giti) and Shira Haas (Ruchami). Shira was the lead actress in “Unorthodox”. Incidentally, none of the main actors are Orthodox and in fact they all had to learn the ways of the Haredi and the Yiddish language. BTW, after this show, I have expanded my vocabulary to add the Hebrew phrases “Baruch Hashem” and “todah rabah” to the previous list of Yiddish ones : goy, shiksa, putz, bubbe, klutz, kvetch, chutzpah, schtick schlep, schmutz, schmear and tuchus. You will definitely enjoy the interviews with the actors (on YouTube) after watching the show, as you will get to see how different the characters they portray are from the actors themselves.
The show is in Hebrew (modern and biblical) and Yiddish, but the subtitles are very well done and do not interfere with the experience. The “arranged marriage” meetings between the young Hasidic men and women (in a hotel/restaurant) are downright ultra-modern compared to my own “arranged marriage interview”. We got married after just one meeting at my in-laws’ place, under the watchful/prying eyes of the elders. 😊 I had covered this in an earlier blog here : “Are you happily married?”
It’s important to note that the Ultra orthodox Jewish life is the backdrop for the story and not the focus of it. The religion is an all-pervading part of their life. After watching a couple of episodes, I got used to the little prayers before every meal, every event and the touching of the mezuzah before entering any doorway. They routinely go through all these as if they are programmed to do so (because they are). The focus is on the intricate relationships between the various characters and the milestones they celebrate along the way – births, marriages and funerals! Surprisingly there were no Bar/Bat Mitzvahs in the show.
I strongly recommend this show! Although, I am afraid you may curse me for getting you hooked onto something so addictive. I would love to find similar such shows/movies – where the background is the religion (Islam, Hinduism, Christianity, Sikhism etc.). I feel that this is a wonderful way to learn about different cultures and lifestyles. I am not looking for the story to be about the religion itself or conflicts between religions (of which I am sure there are many). Please suggest/recommend in the comments section below.
I peeked into the barbershop. The shopping center seemed dead. Luckily, there was a barber in there. I did not recognize him. He was not my usual guy. I was trying to decide in that split-second to go ahead with it or come back later when the other guy comes back. I made a mental note to get his name next time. Referring to him as barber or Asian barber seems lame!
This new guy, also an Asian, seemed surprised that anyone showed up on this snowy Friday at 10:00AM and essentially conveyed “Are you here by mistake?” with his eyes. I said “haircut” and also mimed the two-fingered scissoring motion to reinforce what I just said.
This Asian barbershop has now become my “usual place” for a hair cut. My previous “usual place” was Great Clips, a popular franchise location that was not open during the pandemic when I desperately needed a cut.
Great Clips had my computerized records. They knew exactly what tools and techniques to use to make me look reasonable. Yes, “reasonable” is all I ever aspired for, as far as the hair is concerned. They never had to ask “how much to take off from the top or around the ears etc.”. It was all entered into the system, after that one mishap several years ago, when one of the stylists went nuts with a clipper (while I wasn’t paying attention). After that incident, no more clippers! “Only scissors!”– is probably the bolded and underscored note in their system.
I keep finding myself in Sheldonesque situations
So, when I first came across this barbershop in a strip mall (on my way to Trader Joe’s), I surprised myself by the way I just let him use whatever he wanted to, to get the job done. After all, I was very eager to shed ~7 months of hair growth and I didn’t care how he did it. He did declare at the very outset that he “would make me handsome”, which seemed like unnecessary hyperbole, given that even god could never accomplish that. In the end, he did an excellent job and so I have gone back couple more times. Today, when I hoped to get a hair cut while I was out grocery shopping, I was prepared that he might be closed (because of the snow). But here I am with me trusting my coiffure to another new guy! (My very first such experience in the US is covered here: Hairy Tales )
Once I was seated, he asked me what I wanted. “An inch off and around the ears..”. After a quick survey of my head, he pronounced the approach, “#2 here, #3 here and #4 here!”. That almost sounded like a surgeon announcing at the start of major surgery “I will start with an incision here with a scalpel, then use a retractor here and a clamp here”. He wasn’t asking me. He was telling me. Although, he really didn’t have to tell me as I had no clue about the implications of those combination of clippers on my scalp. That seemed like too much technical talk. The other guy just did it with a combination of one clipper and scissors.
When big clumps of hair started falling off from the sides, with the use of #2 clipper, I got nervous. It was beginning to look like that disaster haircut that Ted Cruz had recently. Maybe I should have waited for the regular guy to come back. Maybe I should have asked for more details when he rattled off a combinations of numbers.
Oh well.. the damage is done! I thought. Too late now. Also, the stakes are low. What do I have to lose? Who am I trying to impress? I hardly interact with anyone these days, except for those Zoom stand-up open-mics. But who is paying attention to my looks at those? He kept switching the attachments to the clipper like the professional that he was, while carrying on a conversation…
Him: “Off from work today?”
Me: “Yep”
Me: “Are you Vietnamese?” I tried to show-off my ability to distinguish between different Asians.
Him: “Wow! How did you know?”. I told him about my association with Vietnamese friends over the years.
Me: “What’s a good Pho place around here?”. My standard go-to topic. It was good to note that his recommendation matched the other guys’ suggestion. I really should get better conversation pieces than this. I am no good at small talk that involves sports, and we had already waxed eloquent about the snow situation.
Him: “Are you a doctor?” Looks like he wanted to try his hand at this guessing game. My parents would be happy that I am exuding “doctor vibes”!
I wanted to say – “No, but I play one on TV” or “No, but I always wanted to be one” or “Yes, I am a WebMD and I am qualified to answer questions about COVID”.
Instead I said “No, I am an engineer”. He had a nod and a chuckle which seemed to say “that would have been my second guess”.
Peak hairiness!
Optimal clipper usage?
When he got done, he used the mirror to show off his handy work and said “There, you look handsome!”, just as I was getting upset with my growing bald spot in the back! He left the tuft of hair on the top mostly untouched and said that because of my thinning hair we should leave it like that. Oh well… He is the expert. This is his domain. Who am I to argue? I actually tipped him well, especially since he said I looked handsome! (-:
(My daughter Ramya wrote this piece in 2008, for her school assignment)
“There are places you can leave that will never truly leave you.”
I cannot remember who spoke these words, yet as I peer out the tiny window -at the house, the city, and the country I am rising above and leaving behind, they reverberate in my head. For the sweltering past month, I have made my paternal grandparents’ house in Hyderabad, India my home. Now, with henna tattoos on my hands and a schoolbag stuffed with homemade Indian sweets on my back, I am flying to my other home, halfway around the world in Pennsylvania.
This summer, my first summer visiting India as an adolescent, I saw my grandparents’ house as more than just my home base during whirlwind thrice-a-decade visits to India. On one level, with wide-eyed curiosity, I was mesmerized by the simple beauty and ingenuity of the house. Yet on a deeper level, I saw the house as a window into my family history and my cultural heritage. In the dank crevices of the kitchen, in the rare breeze rustling garments on the clothesline, even in the daunting old-fashioned bathroom, I saw clues to a foreign lifestyle and a history that is comfortingly my family’s own.
Nayanamma and Thatha, my paternal grandparents, had been the first in our direct family line to move from rural India to the city for education and employment, and by constructing this house in 1965, they had planted their roots firmly in a newly-independent, progressive India. In the 70’s and 80’s, relatives visiting from the villages used to stay for weeks and marvel at the rapid modernization that engulfed the city but left the villages untouched. In this house, my father had hastily done homework after afternoons spent playing cricket on the streets, studied computer engineering without a computer, clenched his fists in nervous anticipation through his engagement ceremony, and packed for a new life in America. Here, Nayanamma had juggled the responsibilities of a career and a family when it was groundbreaking for a woman to do so. And here, a seventy year old man who had grown up without electricity could phone his mother in her native village, e-mail his son in the States, and watch DVDs of his grandchildren’s first words. For my Nayanamma and Thatha, the house was a symbol of all they had accomplished in life, while for Nana, my father, it was a launching pad to a new continent of opportunities, opportunities which he in turn passed on to me and my sister.
Thatha with all grandkids in front of the Sampangi tree
Ageing houses in the front, with newer condos in the back
While the house is significant, it is by no means extravagant. Its most memorable part, the back garden area, consists of a small cement bench surrounded by a wide array of vegetable plants and exotic trees. The area around the house is small and flows together, with the back and front doors of the house open to let in the non-existent wind and allow my free, restless movement. There is a constant smell of too many flowers mixing in the still air, and even though it isn’t like the overpriced perfumes in tiny glass bottles at the American department stores, I like it. Nayanamma sits on the bench, extracting pomegranate seeds from the magnificent fruit. She places the juicy kernels into a small metal bowl, a collection of rubies that accents her scarlet-bordered sari perfectly. Thatha sits beside her, cutting okra in his white banian shirt and lungi, a wrapped Indian cloth. Working outside whenever possible and in no obvious rush, Nayanamma and Thatha exemplify the pleasant pace of life in India.
Popular backyard bench activity…
A clothesline crisscrosses the right side of the small space. Draped on it is a fusion of garments: the trusty pair of blue jeans that had carried me from my doorstep in America through thirty-two hours of safety demonstrations and mealtimes and naptimes to this precious place; the one-meter-by-eight-meter turquoise cloth which takes form on my mother’s too-busy-to-exercise body and transforms it into its perfectly proportioned self; the faded lungis Thatha wraps around his waist while at home, alongside the Western pants he pulls on when going out to take care of business; the golden-yellow salwar my sister bought, which seems to reflect the blinding brilliance of the sun that bakes it.
The requisite “Henna Selfie” (-:One of them is doing this for the camera!
The rear edge of the property is defined by a concrete wall that rises a few feet above our heads. Jagged pieces of brown glass are stuck into the cement on the compound wall, like the rotting teeth of a beast, to ward off thieves and trespassers. Dainty pink flowers creep boldly between the shards. Beyond the wall are high-rise apartments where the new and growing middle-class hang their saris outside their windows like flags and shout greetings up to their neighbors. At least five times a day, Thatha tells us how vast and empty the area behind their house used to be when they first moved to the city.
Barbed wire and shards of glass on the compound wall
The left and right sides of the property are demarcated by the same concrete walls, but beyond these walls are houses similar to our own- small and built decades ago. The space between the house and this dividing wall is no more than three feet, so one could literally stand there and watch his neighbor’s TV or hear the scratches and gurgles of his neighbor brushing his teeth. As children, Nana and his friends used to climb over these compound walls to get to each other’s houses rather than enduring the more tedious process of walking in and out of front gates. All of these children have since grown up and moved out, leaving behind elderly neighbors who stand at these walls and gossip about whose daughter ranked highest on the college entrance exam or whose son was still unmarried. The thick walls between neighbors in India do not hinder communication in the slightest, while the invisible ones in the United States make neighbors strangers.
On the front step leading up to the house lay a heap of shoes. Black Old Navy flip-flops tossed beside worn, brown chappals underneath fancy Indian sandals greeted visitors to the house and hinted at who was inside. These piles of shoes are a comforting site to Indians everywhere and a sign of the sanctity of the home, according to Indian tradition. Arriving at this doorstep, not at the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport, always signified the commencement of a whirlwind vacation in India, the three weeks in which we were supposed to cram a lifetime of memories with some of our closest friends and relatives. The house served as our home base during our stays; from there, we set off on shopping excursions through the chaotic streets of Hyderabad, entertained guests who pinched our cheeks and asked if we got together on weekends with their sons and daughters in places like Seattle and Dallas, and ate unhealthy quantities of deep-fried delicacies. I had also stood on this doorstep so many times, surrounded by suitcases filled with a lifetime supply of homemade sweets and spices, saying tearful goodbyes and wondering when I would see my family again.
To the left of the paved area in front of the house is parked Thatha’s car, a small tan Maruti Suzuki which all three of his children constantly beg him to stop driving. Between darting around other vehicles, halting suddenly for pedestrians and cows, shooing away beggars whose outstretched hands seem to spontaneously appear in the windows whenever one is stalled in traffic, and honking constantly for no reason whatsoever, driving in India is a challenge that rivals the most intense car-racing video games. Yet Thatha continues to brush off his children’s concerns and honk and swerve his way through the streets of Hyderabad everyday, saying that Master will protect him.His car plays the catchy tune of “Saare Jahaan Se Accha,” a patriotic Indian song, each time he reverses, much to the delight of me and my sister and the annoyance of everyone else.
To the right of the house a narrow set of stairs leads to the flat rooftop, where I help the servant girl each week with the novel task of wringing out laundry and pinning it up to dry, despite protests from Nayanamma and Thatha.
Last few photos before saying goodbye!
Each room in the house flows seamlessly into the other, divided only by a diaphanous cloth that hangs in the doorway. In the family room, a long couch and a short couch run along two sides of the room, facing a small TV set in the opposite corner. Nayanamma sits here every Saturday morning and watches a program called Sakhi, in which beautiful ladies with mellifluous voices relay news stories, interview celebrities, and teach women how to cook novel delicacies. From Sakhi, Nayanamma learned how to make Spanish rice, French toast, Chinese noodles, and all kinds of wrapped and rolled versions of traditional Indian dishes.
When the house was first constructed, the only toilet of the house was little more than a hole in the ground. Only in the 1990s did Nayanamma and Thatha install a Western-style toilet, solely for the sake of their NRI (non-residential Indian) grandchildren. This toilet is small, flimsy, and pink, yet we are grateful for its presence. Each time we visit India, we bring several rolls of Charmin from the United States and use them frugally to ensure that they last the entire vacation. The sink, rather than being located in the bathroom, is in a wall cavity by the dining table. Because Indians traditionally eat with their hands, this is commonplace in India to facilitate frequent hand washing.
The original “IronMan”, on the sidewalk across from the house (-:
I loved peering through the front gate, observing children pass on bicycles and men on scooters. Boys with thin, dry, scratchy legs with feet in worn, brown sandals and girls wearing 1970s-style bell-bottoms with flowing peasant tops. Dogs, always emaciated and stray, trotting up and down the streets. On the roadside just a few feet to the front and left of the house was a dhobi, or ironing-man, who worked from a small shack-stand constructed from scraps of metal and cardboard. Women wearing vibrant saris rode by on bicycles, dropping off baskets of freshly cleaned saris. He ironed them with the most cumbersome-looking iron I’ve ever seen. It was a metal box filled with burning coals with a large handle on top, and with it, he meticulously ironed sari after sari late into the night, later than I could have possibly remained outside in that oppressive heat.
Now I’m on my way to a home with high ceilings, granite countertops, a washing machine and a dryer, four Western-style toilets, a spacious backyard with a wooden deck, and two Honda Accords parked in the garage. It has only been a few hours, but I already miss the comforts of my Indian home, my familial home.
Naming our houses, no matter how modest they are, is probably an “Indian” thing. Sure, in the west, fancy estates and plantations always did this, like, “Tara” the plantation in “Gone with the Wind”, or Elvis’s “Graceland”. We’ve always given fancy sounding names to our houses. This is not a substitute for the actual address, which continues to be a mind-boggling combination of numbers and letters (like – 6/3/596/32A/W, MIGH, Block C, J.P.Narayan Marg, Padmavathi Nagar Colony). These “house names” are typically based on our favorite deities, like, “Laxmi Nilayam”, “Ram Nivas” or “Sai Sannidhi” etc. These names are usually engraved on a plaque and installed at the entrance of the house or on the compound wall. Of course, the current-day naming style has been thoroughly influenced by globalization such that “Laxmi Nilayam” etc. gave way to “Laxmi Plaza”, “Sai Enclave” or “Balaji Avenue”.
When my parents built our house in 1965, my dad blended all 5 of our names to come up with “Yashorajasri” as the name for the house. This was the house I grew up in, till I moved to the US in 1983. As you can imagine, for us “Yashorajasri” is much more than brick, mortar and steel! It represents something much stronger and deeper, and has in return built us into who we are today. It housed fond memories that we all will go back to time and again.
1960s
2020
Grandparents (1960s). City view from rooftop
City view. 1970s
It was a tiny piece of land to start with. After building the house we were just left with about 20 feet in the front and 15 feet in the back. Apparently that was plenty to work with. So, over the years we grew all kinds of fruits, vegetables, flowering plants and trees in it. We had Coconut, Papaya, Sapota, Gooseberry, Pomegranate, Passion fruit, Drumstick (Moringa) and Curry leaf trees. We had a bumper crop of Tindora in the backyard (growing up, I wasn’t a fan of this vegetable), along with other seasonal vegetables. We also grew potatoes and sugarcane in the front yard one year. A beautiful creeper with lovely orange flowers covered the entire front of the house for years. If I close my eyes and think of “Yashorajasri” even today, I get a heady mix of the fragrances of Sampangi – the green ones (Artabotrys Hexapetalus) and the orange ones (Magnolia Champaca), SannaJaaji (Jasmine) and Kanakambaram (Crossandra).
Handing off… (Jan 2020)
We had always rented out the upstairs, and we lived on the ground floor. In fact, for several years the 5 of us managed in just a small portion of the ground floor, and let out half of the ground floor as well. All our tenants were friendly and we kept in touch with most of them over the years.
From the rooftop of our house we could see far and wide. We could see Hussainsagar (Tank Bund), Naubat Pahad, Birla Temple and the flights landing at Begumpet airport. On the backside, we could see up to Banjara Hills Road No 1, and the house of movie star Akkineni Nageswara Rao (popularly known as ANR). There were no tall structures to obstruct our line of sight. That changed pretty dramatically over the past two decades. All the old houses around ours were demolished to give way to tall complexes of flats (condominiums). “Yashorajasri” remained as an anachronistic leftover for folks like me to wistfully reminisce about our childhood.
“Remember when Padma fell off this wall and fractured her wrist?”
“Why did I have to get my hair cut in the front yard, where everyone walking by could see us! It was embarrassing!!”Hairy Tales
“or.. the time when dad almost got electrocuted when trying to trim the creeper on the power line!”
Circumstances conspired to gently encourage my parents to move out of this house in 2019. After much deliberation, it was sold to a neighbor at the beginning of 2020. We were there last year when this transaction took place and we helped clean out the last few memorabilia items. We had to brace ourselves to the fact that some day the physical entity “Yashorajasri” would be no more. It turns out that day is today. It seems that the demolition work has started. This too will now make way to another brand new tower of condos. The relations and fond memories that were nurtured in and around that house will live on forever.
Why are they called praying mantises? They seem to be known for killing and eating their own kind. Shouldn’t they be called cannibal mantises instead?
So, what exactly are they praying for? I am guessing that the male one is praying and hoping that its partner won’t be too hungry after mating (which is when the cannibalism is supposed to start). The female is thanking the lord for the meal it’s about to have.
This got me thinking about animals and their belief in a god. When an antelope is running away from a cheetah, is she praying to her almighty, to be saved (in a very physical sense, and not the Christian metaphorical way), and is the cheetah doing the same (praying for a sumptuous meal that is not too “gamey” 🙂 )? What are the odds that they are both praying to the same god – who could, technically, dodge both their prayers with a “free will” argument and go focus on something more important, like helping a specific horse win the Kentucky Derby! As you can see, I had assumed a dedicated god for the animals, thereby freeing up the god of humans to take care of our important issues… like war, famine, child abuse and ensuring an abundant supply of McRib and Popeyes chicken sandwich!
I am in no way unique in addressing this question about animals seeking help from deities. There are stories in ancient Hindu texts that cover this topic. There is one specific one where an elephant prays for (and gets) divine intervention when it is grabbed by a crocodile.
Coming back to praying mantises, here’s one that I captured with my iPhone, while it was in the midst of this sumptuous meal of dragonfly. I am sure the dragonfly would have appreciated it if its deity would have heard its prayers and gotten involved.
In over 33 yrs of marriage and being employed by various companies, not once was I asked to show proof that I was married, for any reason. But, now, with my new job – they are asking for my marriage certificate, in order to cover my wife as a dependent for health and other benefits.
Holy Matrimony it is!
We had not seen this certificate nor needed it in 33 years! I certainly could not have found it! The fact that Uma could locate it fairly quickly and handle it with the care that such a crumbling document needed is proof enough that we are married! What more proof do you need to realize that I am the true dependent, here! I am not sure if this document will satisfy the requirements of the company, because it does not have our social security numbers, signatures or anything relevant or meaningful! Everything on this certificate is barely legible. It looks ancient and feels like it belongs in a museum – along with the manuscripts of the Magna Carta and the Dead Sea Scrolls!
One of us is still fresh after 6 hours of marathon ceremonies!
I wonder if, instead of the marriage certificate, I should just send out a couple of our wedding photos and a video clip of me trying to fix the toilet and her repeatedly asking me to “call someone who knows what they are doing”, or maybe show them the idiot-proof grocery lists that she gives me every week and how I, even after such detailed lists, come back missing a couple of items or bringing the wrong items. This will of course be followed by an amusing session (for one of us) of “How may times I have to tell you..”, “You always do this..”, “I knew it..” , “I told you so..” etc. Any of these, individually or collectively should definitely prove that we are seasoned veterans of holy matrimony!
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?”If you think these instructions are idiot-proof, you are underestimating idiots in general and this one in particular!? (-:
I had no idea that I could ever sweat from the soles of my feet and palms! I was sweating from every pore in my body. The loud thuds from my heart were competing with the booming act-outs from the comedian as well as applause of the audience downstairs. I really should be fairly comfortable doing this. After all, I have come a long way since the 7th grade poetry recitation competition in school, where I totally bombed, and only managed to get the 1st line of the poem out, before walking off the stage in tears. Since then I have had a few years of Toastmasters experience under my belt, which definitely cured my stage fright! So, why this new anxiety?
It was the graduation show for the 6 week stand-up comedy class that I took at ACT II theater in Ambler. I thought I had done a fairly good job with writing and re-writing the material and practicing it over and over again. I had done all the exercises suggested in the “text book” by Judy Carter that was used for the class. I had even pasted cheat sheets onto the water bottle (in case I forgot my lines), as suggested in the class. But, there was something about bombing in front of an audience (especially based on my on-stage history) that was totally nerve-racking and had me pacing up and down in the green room.
This photo does not convey the stress and anxiety that just preceded!
Finally when it was my turn, I got on the stage and could not see any of the audience members because of the bright lights in my face. This was perfect, as I did not have to bother imagining the audience naked! There were over 60 members in that small community theater, whose stage was set for a play with performances scheduled through the week. Hence the strange looking bedroom set on stage (which I worked into my opening bits), for my debut stand-up performance. This had to be the friendliest audience that I will ever perform for, as they were all friends and family of the performers and would be giving us all the encouragement as well as pity laughs, if needed. I only had 5 members of my family there. I could not coax or bribe any more than that! The bulk of the audience was Sam’s (a fellow student in the class) friends and family and they were super generous with their laughter for all the performers. I am grateful to them for their encouragement during the show and afterwards as well. Thankfully and surprisingly, I did not forget any of my lines and the audience feedback was reassuring and calmed me down. I did not even need my cheat sheet (although with all the moisture on the bottle, the note was practically useless).
My first stand-up performance (no, this is not my bedroom)!
Open Mics!
About a month later, just on a whim, I looked up stand-up comedy open mics in Lehigh Valley (where I worked). Luckily, it turned out Stout Laughs had an open mic that evening at Bethlehem Brewworks. Perfect! I stayed late at work and then showed up in time to sign up. Strangely, I did not feel nervous at all, maybe because I did not know anyone there. It was a case of, “what do I have to lose?” attitude. I did my best “5 mins” from the original debut set and was very happy with the feedback from the audience. So, just like that, I was a virgin no more (in the world of open mics)! Then in a quick succession, I did two more open mics back to back – in Northeast Philly and Lansdale, over the next two days. From then on, the open mics became part of my weekly routine. Folks at work used to wonder why I was hanging around after hours. The guy at the Vietnamese restaurant (that I’d hit before Stout Laughs) started recognizing me – “Chicken Pho, right?”. I also added a few more spots in Lansdale and Doylestown to the repertoire. I was slowly getting more and more comfortable with the mics. The comedians and the audiences were very friendly, encouraging, and receptive to my bi-weekly routine about “fish out of water” narrations covering India and immigrant experiences!
Signup sheet for my 1st ever open mic!
“Oh, the places you go… and the people you meet!”
The 5 min set I did at Stout Laughs on March 3rd 2020, was the last in-person open mic that I did before everything closed down due to COVID19. We all thought things would get back to normal in a matter of weeks. That was over 6 months ago! In mid April (exactly 1 year since my first stand-up performance), I tried my very first Zoom open mic. It felt great to be able to reuse my favorite bits (Indian stereotypes, Kamasutra, spelling bee, etc.) on the Philadelphia-based “Ill At Ease” open mic. By now I was between jobs and had plenty of time to feed this “mid-life crisis” hobby of mine! I found other mics – in Chicago and Omaha, which I started attending regularly. Then someone mentioned a Facebook group called “Displaced Comedians” which was created to help out just my kind of comedians who were all extremely thirsty for opportunities, networking, and resources. I joined the group and immediately fell in love with the mother-lode of compiled data about worldwide open mics at this site. Armed with this information, I went nuts -signing up for open mics throughout the world at all possible hours! I got a high out of performing in as many as 6 different open mics in one day, virtually hopping from London to Moscow to Salt Lake City etc. Sometimes I was using the same material at every mic, but fine-tuning to improve the quality and context. “Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” references and specifically Yiddish ones do not work in Tokyo. Nobody outside the Philly area knows what Scrapple is… 🙂 .
I started seeing the same faces from all over the world at these different open mics. Within a short time, I was friends with a lot of them. We would give each other feedback – ‘pat on the back’ when the jokes land perfectly as well as constructive suggestions to make the bits funnier.
While doing these open mics, I got to do a few featured showcase comedy specials. These are typically an hour long with 5 or 6 comedians. I loved performing in these and having the opportunity to share the virtual stage with some very talented comedians. It was eye-opening to see the number of Indians who are into comedy! I had the pleasure of meeting and performing with Indian diaspora – of all shades and accents, not just the ones in India, but many from South Africa, Malaysia, US, and Canada. Some of these folks who are 2nd or 3rd generation Indians have never even been to India. Who knew that ‘funny’ was one of the spices that was innate to us all! Not surprisingly, what’s common to all of us Indians is the “desi-ness”** in our material – assimilation with local population, spicy food, strict and stingy parents, religion, sex-ed (or lack thereof), and other taboo subjects. That’s right folks, we Indians are not just coming for your spelling bee trophies and IT jobs, now we are even coming for ‘your’ comedy gigs 🙂
**(desi – Pertaining to the Indian Subcontinent. pronounced “They see”)
Last “Steal The Show” online mic from Moscow
Stay in your lane
I heard that most seasoned comedians do not like Zoom mics and shows, for obvious reasons. Zoom certainly lacks the real-life touch and feedback, but for me it makes up for that in terms of convenience of sitting at home while interacting with and performing for folks all over the world. Since I was practically a newcomer to comedy before the covid pandemic hit, I did not have much to compare with, so I jumped into this world happily with both feet. I am thrilled to have connected and become friends with a lot of comedians and wonderful hosts worldwide through the open mics for these past 6 months.
My comedy primarily draws on my own Indian background and immigrant experiences. In addition to that, I do observational comedy. Some of my favorite bits deal with my “Italian-ness” and “Jewishness!” These were big hits and are now part of my repertoire. Some of my friends “playfully” urged me to stay in my lane and stick to “Indian” material, else they would be forced to cut into my “Kamasutra and Yoga” routines. Personally, I think it would be a boring world if we all stayed just in “our lane.” Recently, my Jewish friend’s daughter made “naan” (Indian flat bread) from scratch. I can guarantee you that not even 0.001% of Indians have ever made a naan! To return the favor, my daughter made yummy bagels from scratch. So… here we are having a ball while happily cutting into each others’ lanes.
It has been an absolute thrill ride pursuing my newfound hobby for these past few months. I hope to continue with online open mics for now and the in-person ones when the world opens up!
Epilogue : If you want to give it a shot…
As you might have guessed, there are no prerequisites to get into comedy. If I can do it, anyone can! All it takes is an urge to entertain people and an unlimited well of experiences to draw from, for the material. Here is a sampling of some resources that have helped me and could be of interest to you.
Facebook group : Displaced Comedians, founded by Niko Lukoff, has a list of all open mics along with signup details. These are all free and anyone can sign up. Here are some that I have attended regularly.
Villain Theater open mic (Miami, Florida)
The PandeMic! (Salt Lake City, Utah)
Backline Comedy (Omaha, Nebraska)
Ill at Ease (Philadelphia)
Suddenly Standup (New York City)
Get on the Mic! (Tokyo)
Stand-Up comedy classes (online and in-person) offered by
Flappers Comedy Club
Tao Comedy Studio
ACT II Playhouse
Off Mic Comedy School
Writing Workshops – these are great resources for getting feedback:
Stand Up Comedy Writing Mastermind
Joke Shop Online
“This Just in News” – Feedback Mic
The Comedy Writer’s room presented by Hot Breath! Comedy Network
I am generally not the kind of person that wishes harm on anyone or anything, but I am going out on a limb to wish that our 30 year old pressure cooker just dies right now! It has lived a wonderful life and served us well, but now it’s time for it to make way for the next generation!
My wife has a strict policy about bringing new items into the house (especially the kitchen) when there are existing alternatives. That seems logical enough, but I am through being logical! We are talking about an Instant Pot, which has been winning hearts, minds, palates and stomachs the world over! If you have been living under a rock and therefore have not heard about this magical kitchen product that apparently “everyone” must have – it is an electric pressure cooker, steamer, rice cooker, slow cooker, saute/searing pan and food warmer! It seems that you might even be able to steam clean your carpet by combining it with a Roomba (I am working on the design for this right now! 🙂 ). The Instant Pot was invented in 2010, right next door, in Canada, by some ex-Nortel employees. All of our friends and family have had it for years and we are under a lot of pressure to join the group. We’ve been resisting all of their brain-washing efforts for years 🙂 . Actually, mostly my wife has been standing strong. As for me, I am easily tempted, especially when it comes to kitchen gadgets. There isn’t a single infomercial on TV that I did not watch over and over again (open mouthed and wide-eyed) wondering how they were able to throw in – “this and that” and “also that” for 4 easy payments of $49.95 plus shipping and handling of only $29.95. As you can imagine, I have fallen for these gimmicks several times over the years. Some were good, but most were duds!
There are millions of followers for the Instant Pot worldwide and there are dedicated user groups on Facebook and other social media, for these folks to compare notes and share recipes. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these folks have weekly get-togethers to sing the praises of the Instant Pot and maybe even go door-to-door with pamphlets to convince folks about the one and only savior in the kitchen! I have seen Instant Pot recipes on Youtube (like a sweet-toothed diabetic in a donut shop) for making mouthwatering delicacies in every possible cuisine. In addition to the usual (and expected) Biryani, Sambar, Pot Roast, Chilli, Baked Potatoes etc, I have seen recipes for wine, beer, yogurt, masala chai and even dog food (Wow!!). Once you own one of these, you are on a mission to convert everyone to your way! Some of my buddies go with the aggressive sales pitch – “you could cook that in half the time and use the time you saved to convince others to buy Instant Pots!”. Of course, that makes perfect sense to me. But, as mentioned earlier, I am the one that easily gets carried away by kitchen gadgets.
Instant Pot Duo Instant Pot Chicken Curry for the win!!!
Some of our friends have 3 or 4 of them on their kitchen counter-tops. Each one for a specific function, in order to whip up an entire 4 course meal at once. My daughters go with the soft approach – they post their food creations on social media and our family Whatsapp groups and then rub it in. “See! If you had an Instant Pot, even you could have made this!” At parties, these folks take turns trying to persuade us with their tag-team recruiting approach. Thanks to my wife and her strong ‘belief’ in our pressure cooker, it seems that there is no room in our hearts or on our counter-top for yet another gadget.
I will keep working on my wife to change her mind (wish me luck!). Meanwhile, please add your best Instant Pot recipes as well as your best argument to convince my wife, in the comments section below.. 🙂
Cutaneous Lupus was the diagnosis that my dermatologist came back with after doing a biopsy of my scalp. I had gone to him after a persistent itch morphed from minor annoyance to a major preoccupation and finally forced me to act. At first, I was not sure how serious of an ailment it was till he referred me to a specialist at The Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. My wife and daughter calmed me down, as Lupus was not yet confirmed and there were medicines available to treat it. Even then, a possible diagnosis of Cutaneous Lupus got me all worked up. As a confirmed hypochondriac, who has his WebMD on speed-dial (bookmarked), I needed all my powers of restraint from spending hours on the internet researching this.
Based on my dermatologist’s referral we were able to get a quick appointment with the specialist at Penn. At the appointment, she and her team took their time to analyze the earlier biopsy results and ordered their own specific tests/biopsy. After a few weeks, at the second appointment she narrowed the diagnosis down to Lichenoid Dermatitis, and planned to start me on Plaquenil. Yes, this is the same Plaquenil (Hydroxychloroquine) that is currently being touted as the possible miracle cure for the CoronaVirus (COVID-19) pandemic.
One of the possible side effects of long term use of Plaquenil is eye damage leading to loss of vision. Because of this, the doctor asked me to have my eyes checked out by the ophthalmologist to establish a baseline before starting the medicine. While I was starting to accept the diagnosis and the prognosis so far, the seriousness of this medicine and its potential side effects rattled me! On the way back from the ophthalmologist, Uma reiterated her previous theory that maybe all this was due to the use of hair dyes and that I should stop using them. I had dismissed this earlier – thinking that she was just jealous of my youthful looks. Finally, because of her persistence, I stopped coloring my hair (just to prove her wrong, of course 🙂 ). After a month or so, the itching stopped COMPLETELY! The sores on my scalp gradually healed!
Phew! That was close! If it weren’t for Uma’s idea and insistence that I stop the coloring, I could have gone blind – a ‘young-looking’ blind guy, instead of the George Clooney look-alike (with the salt-n-pepper coiffure) that I am today! 🙂
Before
After
Modeling “Just For Men” Au Naturel
You are probably eager to get the name of the hair dye that caused all this angst. I had used “Just for Men” for several years before switching to “Indica Easy Hair Colour” based on the recommendation of a dermatologist (who said this was more natural). The problem started when I used this brand. After I stopped using it, the problem got resolved. Then after several months, I was tempted to go back to “Just for Men”, to see if the issue was limited to that original Indian brand. Well, guess what? The exact same problem was back! So, essentially, I was allergic to an ingredient that was common to all these hair dyes.
The takeaways from this experience (in no particular order):
Always get 2nd and 3rd opinions for any major diagnosis
Forget the George Clooney look, I really should have just shaved my head and gone with the Vin Diesel look
How many people would I have fooled with a wig or toupee?
In order to have harmony in your matrimony, always listen to your wife and do what she recommends (and be prepared for “I told you so” for years…)
If I had not goofed off in high school and worked hard, I might have become a dermatologist myself! Oh well…
Beware of the side effects of all medicines. DO NOT ignore them! We have smart scientists. I wish they would come up with better side effects. For e.g.: How about an erectile dysfunction drug that reduces belly fat and fixes hair loss (based on the targeted users of this drug)?
These are unprecedented times. This post is more for the future, so that we can look back at this horrible time when we were in dire straits, deep doo-doo and holy shi*t all at once! This is the “World War II” of our generation! Unlike WWII, how we come out of it on the other side depends on all of us, not just the healthcare workers toiling on the front lines!
It is imperative that we all follow the guidelines that the experts are pounding into us non-stop via all the media. In addition, we have also been getting inundated via social media about many other ways to control and even cure the CoronaVirus (COVID-19). I wanted to compile all the proposed methods/ideas that I have been getting (from social media and news) so that they are available as a reference for all. Several years down the road, we could take a look at this list to see which one (if any) of these or a combination of these actually helped. As you can imagine, this will be a running list which I will keep updating as I receive new recommendations. While the following items may or may not have other generic benefits, they have been included here because of the very specific claims about CoronaVirus (COVID-19).
1. Washing hands regularly and thoroughly
2. Eating only vegetarian food
3. Doing yoga
4. Social distancing and isolation/quarantining as needed
5. Doing Pranayama
6. Using Ayurvedic medicines
7. Repeat Allah’s prayer (Du’a for protection) – 3 times in the morning and 3 times in the evening.
8. Eating haldi mixed with honey before sunrise
9. Gayatri mantra
10. Ask Jesus to heal you
11. Ashwagandha (“This stops the blending of Corona protein with human protein”)
17. Rosary for protection of families from CoronaVirus
18. Acupuncture/acupressure: Press pressure point LI-11 5 times: Increases your immunity against COVID-19
19. Chanting Maha Mrityunjaya mantras to generate vibrations to ward off the negative and evil forces and to protect your family from the deadly effects of COVID-19
20. HydroxyChloroquine + Azithromycin
21. Use of hand sanitizer
22. Turmeric and Rasam Powder
23. Religious group chanting “Go Corona” as a group while holding candles
24. Hydroxychloroquine is a component of Kalonji Seeds (Nigella Sativa) – “There is healing in black cumin for all diseases except death” — Islamic literature
25. “Bringing Ultraviolet or very powerful light inside the body”
26. “Injecting disinfectant inside .. knocks it out in a minute.. almost a cleaning!”
27. Vitamin C and Zinc
28. Coronil – from Patanjali (Baba Ramdev), “100% favourable results during the clinical trial COVID-19 patients“.
29. Immunity Booster Rotla – at Patel Brothers
30. Bhabhiji brand Papad – “has edible elements that can help create antibodies which will prove to be helpful in fighting coronavirus.” (Indian politician).
31. Weightlifting and other misc Crossfit steps proposed by Marjorie Greene as “Covid protection“.
32. Eleven day Yagna being conducted at Ujjain Temple with a view to cast out COVID-19 (reported in “The Hindu” on 4/9/2021).
33. Vaccines from : Pfizer, Moderna, Johnson & Johnson, Covishield, Covaxin, Astra-Zeneca, Sputnik V, CoviVac, SinoVac, CanSino, Wuhan Institute
34. Dry ginger powder
It is entirely possible that some of these were sent out by non-experts. So, I am assuming that people will take them with a pinch of salt! (and turmeric?) 🙂
As I am not an expert in any of these, I am refraining from giving my opinion of them.
Our epic “National Parks vacation” started with a most unexpected and pleasant surprise of a south Indian Breakfast on the Las Vegas Strip! We were looking for any breakfast place before our four and half hour drive to Page, AZ. We just literally stumbled on “Mirchi – South Indian Kitchen” on one end of the the famous strip and this fast food place was actually open for breakfast. We were the first and only customers at that time. So we ordered our favorites – Masala Dosa and Idli followed by hot Masala Chai. Yes… It’s an Indian thing, even on a 100 degree day, we like our hot chai! Don’t try to look for a rational explanation for that! 🙂. The breakfast was yummy and filling. I may be biased but, no cereal, pancakes, oatmeal or waffles can compete with dosas and idlis. After this sumptuous breakfast we drove to Page, Arizona, while admiring the desolate desert that seemed to progressively pick up vegetation as we moved from Nevada (Las Vegas) to Arizona (Page). During these 4 hrs we drove in and out of Utah and Arizona several times before arriving at Page, as the route straddled these states.
As soon as we got to Page, we first checked in to the National Park Service (NPS) Visitor Center and sought guidance from the helpful representatives in covering the most important points in the time we had. This is a move we repeated at every park we visited and we are very happy we did that. The Park officials were always very helpful and gave us the best pointers for the limited time we had at each place (~48hrs per place).
The natural beauty themed road trip spanned 12 days, 1600 miles and 4 states
Page , Az (Antelope Canyon, Horseshoe Bend)
We were very happy with the AirBnB that was centrally located close to the main drag in town. All the restaurants, grocery store etc were within walking distance. It was just 1 block from Big John’s Texas Barbecue which was so popular that it had long lines outside at dinner time. There was an awesome Country/Rock concert on a tiny stage for their outdoor seating area.
Because of the helpful suggestions from NPS visitor center, we barely managed to book a tour of Antelope Canyon (which is through local Navajo guides). You cannot tour this canyon without the guides. It was a one hour hike through this slot canyon, where you descend into the ground and walk through a narrow canyon whose walls reflect sunlight in amazing hues. This was early in the morning and lasted about an hour and it wasn’t too hot (it got to over 100 degree F later in the day). The guide pushed us along as there was a pipeline of groups lined up back to back. The Navajo guide also showed us the best vantage points for these amazing photos and also some neat tricks with iPhone cameras.
Unreal shapes caused by erosion over millions of years! Unreal colors caused by sunlight streaming through! Visions of a yummy chocolate + Caramel + Mango dessert! 🙂
Thanks to our Navajo guide for teaching us clever iPhone techniques (like vertical panorama)!
In the afternoon hot sun (really HOT sun!) we drove the short distance to Horseshoe Bend, which is a beautifully carved canyon that is shaped liked a horse shoe by the once mighty Colorado river. The half mile walk to the canyon was not too bad as it was mostly downhill. We marveled at the Windows10 ScreenSaver beauty from every angle possible and also took the requisite photos and selfies from dangerous looking angles.
Horseshoe Bend. I don’t have a fear of heights. I am just afraid of precariousness! 🙂
Uma perched on top of the amazing rock!
The sights were breathtaking! The hike back to the parking lot (uphill this time, unfortunately) in the 110 degree brutal sun was intense (to say the least). We had to take it easy for the rest of the day to recover from the heat.
If you go…
Be sure to make reservations for Antelope Canyon before you get there. These tours get booked up fast. We were very happy with Dixie’s Lower Antelope Canyon Tours. You can make the reservations online at : https://antelopelowercanyon.com. We paid around $120 for the two of us.
I recommend the AirBnB we stayed at, hosted by Karl (132, 8th Avenue, Page Az).
Do check out Big Johns Texas Barbecue.
Tropic, UT (Bryce Canyon)
Next day we drove straight to Bryce Canyon (in Utah). We reached the NPS visitor center around 4:00 pm and got the details on what we could do that afternoon and what hikes we could go on the next day. We loved the shuttle service provided by the Park Service that takes you to the 4 scenic overlooks along the rim of the canyon. We got off at the 1st one and marveled at the Red and Tan Hoodoos in the vast canyon. Then we walked along the rim to the other three overlooks. We frequently stopped to take pictures with the amazing geologic formations in the background. None of the photos do justice to the wonder of nature that was in front of us. But that did not stop me from clicking away.
Amazing Bryce Canyon amphitheater!
This one was not shy at all!
Loved the bright colors – especially the blue skies and red hoodoos of the canyon!
Check out the steep switchbacks (hair pin bends as we used to call them in India). Going down was not bad. Coming up – downright brutal!
The next morning we came back fresh, to try out the first hike – i.e trekking down into the canyon and hiking back up (huffing and puffing, taking a lot of breaks and photos). Then after a brief break, we went on one more hike down a different and more difficult path called “Wall street hike”. It was steep with a lot of switchbacks. As we were pooped from over 4 hrs of hiking, we opted to come back up on a different (slightly easier) trail (Navajo Loop Trail). It was totally exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. We are so glad we did these hikes and took in the sights up close.
A word about Tropic , UT – This is a tiny town near Bryce canyon. It is so tiny that there are no street lights, just one gas station and a few restaurants. It is very cute and the 8 room motel that we stayed at was extremely clean, comfortable and reasonable.
If you go…
If you plan to visit National Parks, consider getting a US Park Pass ($80 per annum). This will enable free entry into all National Parks for your family (1 vehicle). Check out details here : https://www.usparkpass.com/
I strongly recommend staying at Bybee’s Steppingstone Motel in Tropic. It’s a delightful, cute place.
There is an elaborate buffet at “Ruby’s Inn Cowboy’s Buffet and Steak Room”, that I recommend. We definitely needed that after a crazy day of hiking.
Moab, UT (Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park)
While we were checking out of the Bybee motel in Tropic, the manager recommended that we take the little longer but scenic route to our next destination, Moab. We are so glad that we took his advice, as we got to see wonderful countryside, huge mountain ranges and the red rock and sand stone behemoths of Capital Reef along the way.
Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park were near the town of Moab. Just before we left on the trip, one of our friends had strongly recommended that we should not miss the ranger led “Fiery Furnace Hike” in Arches National Park. We got to National Park Service Visitor Center just in time to book the ranger led “Fiery Furnace Hike” for the 4:00 PM slot on the day we were supposed to leave town and drive to Aspen. We decided to go for it, as it was highly recommended, even though that meant getting to Aspen quite late in the night after a brutal hike.
The next day we did the popular hike to Delicate Arch, which is like the Mona Lisa of the Arches, as everyone has heard about it and wants to see it, even though there are bigger and better arches nearby. It was a moderate hike (3 miles round trip), with some parts being steep and intense. Heeding the warnings from the NPS Visitor center, we started early in the morning before it got very hot. Later we covered Windows Loop, Double Arch and Landscape Arch. All in all we ended up walking 11.5 miles on that day.
Delicate Arch. Round trip hike (moderate difficulty) of 3 hrs was definitely worth it!
Check out the people at the foot of the arch! (..and the lady posing behind Uma 🙂 )!
Beautiful, massive arches are everywhere! We hiked to as many as we could..
Another famous one – The Landscape Arch!
The last day after we checked out of the hotel, we essentially rested and prepared for the “Fiery Furnace Hike”, which started by meeting the ranger and the rest of the hikers (14 including us) at 4:00 pm near the trail head. It was brutally hot and the ranger wanted to check if we all brought the requisite amount of water per head. We thought we had enough but she declared that between the two of us we only had half the amount needed. One of the other hikers had some spare bottles, so they were kind enough to share with us. We were very thankful for their generosity. The ranger initially made a fuss about the heat and said she herself doesn’t like to hike the canyon (furnace) in such hot weather. That did little to instill confidence in us. Then she asked if anyone wanted to drop off. She said that once we are in the canyon and if someone has problems/medical incidents, it could take up to 16 hrs to rescue! She would sweep the whole team with her gaze while saying this, but we felt that her eyes would linger on longer on the two of us. Clearly she sensed that the two of us could be the weakest links of the team.. 🙂! I guess the prowess of us Indians as non-athletic is quite well known. To the hiking gang (and especially the ranger), we probably looked like two spelling bee coaches who showed up at the wrong place for the coaching session. We declared that we were ready for it, and we proceeded, briskly walking into the canyon, taking multiple water breaks.. (did I mention 104 degree F?). It was not just an ordinary hike. It involved squeezing through narrow cracks, walking on high ledges, crawling on all fours (and fives – as the butt got involved too sometimes)! Thankfully lot of the path was in shade and the entire group was very friendly and helpful, encouraging each other and helping to pull/push when needed. After two and half hours when we made it back to the parking lot, we were thoroughly exhausted but extremely thrilled to have gone on this amazing and challenging hike, and came out of it with memories to last a lifetime
Water break already? We just got started..
Uma: “Are we there yet?”
That was a tight squeeze back there! Appreciate all the pushing and pulling by fellow hike mates!
Cool techniques taught by the ranger to make it through narrow passes like this..
If you go…
Make sure to visit the NPS visitor center for recommendations.
If you are moderately fit, do not miss the Fiery Furnace Hike. It costs $16 per head and should be booked in advance.
While in Moab, do not miss yummy quesadillas at “Quesadilla Mobilla” – a food truck. You will love it! There are other food trucks there as well in a unique food truck park, with a shaded seating area that is covered by overhead tubes that spray refreshing mist.
Aspen, Co (Maroon Bells)
After the grueling “Fiery Furnace Hike”, we started driving at 7:00pm, and reached our hotel in Aspen around midnight. Our hotel called Mountain Chalet was a wonderful facility and we really wished we had stayed there more than the 1 night that we actually did. The staff was very friendly and helpful and they had a sumptuous fresh breakfast that was included with the room. I highly recommend this place for anyone that is staying in Aspen area. We boarded the free bus (right across from Mountain Chalet) that took us from Aspen to Highlands area, where we got on another bus ($8 per person round trip) to go to Maroon Bells. The driver of the bus is also a tour guide and gave a nice talk about the area and the avalanches that they experience (pointing out the damage to the Aspen forests caused by last year’s avalanches). It was a short 20 min ride. Maroon Bells is this “heaven on earth” like place with beautiful mountains, lake, streams and trails through amazing woods full of wild flowers. The photos, of course, do not come close to capturing the real beauty of the “nature on steroids” over there. Some who saw our photos said that they look fake. After hiking through some of the trails for a few hours we took the bus back and then started driving to our final destination – Denver area.
Nothing fake about this backdrop!
Maroon Bells: A wonderful way to balance out the earlier dry and rugged part of our vacation!
Wish we had stayed longer at this piece of heaven!
Try not to be distracted by these legs! 🙂
Denver, Co
The drive from Aspen to Denver area was mostly through high mountain passes and beautiful vistas. Uma enjoyed these sights.. while I kept my gaze on the curvy road (for the most part). After about 4 hours, we started seeing the familiar generic landscape of any American city (and suburbs) – Walmart, Best Buy, Home Depot, McDonalds, Burger King etc.
The next day and half were spent relaxing and recovering from the intense physical activity. We went into downtown Denver for a few hours just to get a feel for the place and strolled down the famous 16th street mall (which was designed by the famous architect I.M.Pei). The concept is good, but unfortunately, with lots of homeless people throughout the street, it did not feel very pleasant. Because of this, every business on the street has codes on their bathroom doors and big signs that declare that bathrooms are for customers only.
The final item on our agenda before boarding the late night flight back to Philadelphia was to attend the finals of “World Championship of Public Speaking” at the Toastmaster’s International Conference. Earlier in the year, over 30,000 speakers (including Uma) started competing at club level and after 6 levels of elimination it came down to the 6 finalists competing in Denver. We thoroughly enjoyed the awesome speeches by the contestants. It’s amazing how they packed so much humor, emotion and gripping storytelling into those 7 minutes! We were jumping with joy when Aaron Beverly (from Philadelphia region) won the championship. His speech was awesome! It’s possible that I may be biased, as he is from our region and his speech was about an Indian wedding ritual.
With the 2019 World Champion of Public Speaking!
Later we stopped by at an Indian restaurant for dinner, on the way to the airport, to cap off the wonderful vacation, which started with an Indian breakfast in Las Vegas. At this restaurant called “Coriander”, Uma and I picked a curry called Madras Chicken and their signature naan – “Coriander Naan”, which is supposed to be stuffed with Serrano peppers. Imagine our shock and surprise when the waitress discouraged us from ordering these. She said that these are very spicy and we may not be able to handle them! That’s right.. after taking one look at us (south Indians), this Indian waitress decided that we would not be able to handle the spicy food! This felt exactly like the scene with that Park Ranger at the start of the Fiery Furnace hike, who (probably for a good reason) felt that some of us (just the two of us, really), would not be able to handle the hike. Uma asked the waitress, “How spicy are these? In a range of …”
“5 out of 5! 10 out of 10!”, she quickly retorted before Uma could finish her sentence.
Wow! Ok!! We decided to play it safe and order some other tamer stuff from the menu. These items were very tasty and we were very happy with the place. During the meal, when the waitress stopped by, I had to ask her, “If these are so spicy, who orders them?” She said, “It’s mostly white people. Some of them can eat crazy hot stuff!”
Our collective jaw dropped!
I made a mental note to come back and take them up on the challenge, and maybe bring along one of my white friends for moral support during this daring culinary adventure.
One day, back in the late 80s, when I was working at AT&T Bell Labs/AT&T Microelectronics in Allentown, I received an interoffice package from Bell Labs in Murray Hill, NJ. Upon opening it, I was pleasantly surprised to see a red T-Shirt. Across the front were several “3K” symbols and among them were these words:
This is the way the world began
Not with a whimper but with a bang!
There was a letter of congratulations included in the package from Arno Penzias, who was the Vice President of Bell Labs then. I was thrilled to bits! I had not even heard of Arno Penzias at that time. It was a huge organization and he was not in my direct line of command. Well, it turns out that I had gone out of my way to test out a hardware accelerator that was developed in Murray Hill, for a real customer design, and somehow, it went to Arno’s attention. When I talked with other colleagues and friends, I found out that Arno was actually a Nobel Prize winner for Physics in 1978, for his discovery of the Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation (along with Robert Wilson), which helped establish the Big Bang Theory of Cosmology. It seems that the “3K” on the T-Shirt represents the “3-degrees-above-zero-Kelvin” background radiation that Arno and Robert had detected. I was told that the T-shirt and letter were Arno’s way of encouraging engineers to stretch themselves and come up with innovative ideas/solutions. I truly did not think that my little test for the accelerator deserved such a high honor! In any case, I was on cloud nine and it did impress my wife (for a few days)! 😊 I never actually wore the T-Shirt and just saved it along with the letter as mementos.
After several years, when my daughter Ramya was in middle school, she came across this T-Shirt. She was quite impressed by the story behind it and wanted to wear it to school. Sure, why not, I said! It looked perfect on her with the blue jeans! I wish we had a keepsake photo of that moment. That evening at the dinner table, Ramya mentioned about a strange reaction that one of her friends had to the message on the T-shirt! It seems the friend read it, scowled at her and said “That is against my beliefs”! Ramya was shocked and puzzled… and frankly, so was I! We had not thought much about any “hidden implications” of the lines. We were just feeling proud that it was a gift from a Nobel laureate about his research and were more than happy to show-off!! Upon digging deeper, we realized that some people oppose or disagree with “The Big Bang Theory”, based on their particular religious teachings. It certainly was a learning moment for us. Well… guess what? This is middle school, and you get to learn in the hallways, cafeteria and playground as much as you learn in the classroom! BTW, much later, I researched into the lines on the T-Shirt and found out that these were derived from T.S.Eliot’s poem from 1925 -“The Hollow Men”, which ends with :
This is the way the world will end
Not with a bang but with a whimper
Last week, after a frantic search throughout the house (specifically for this blog entry), I came to the unfortunate realization that I might have lost/misplaced the T-Shirt and the letter! Considering that I am a nostalgia buff and have treasured such keepsakes from my past ( for e.g, my favorite R.K.Narayan photos and memorabilia), I am very upset that I lost these! I am hoping that my wife will magically locate them (just as she has done so in the past)!
Orlando Magic!
A visit to Orlando and Disney Theme Parks is a must-do rite of passage, especially for families with children. Our family has very fond memories of the three trips that we had to Orlando in general and Disney Parks in particular. Of all the parks, my #1 favorite is Epcot. This “Experimental Prototype City of Tomorrow” (EPCOT Center) made an indelible impression on me the very first time we went in 1990. The jaw-dropping rides were thoroughly entertaining and informative at the same time!! While initially I complained about the cost of entrance being so exorbitant ($25 per person per day in 1990), at the end of the day, I conceded that it was totally worth it!
When my friends at work found out that I was headed to Orlando, they told me that the main attraction at EPCOT was a ride called “The story of communications” in the iconic Spaceship Earth, which was an amazing and imposing structure! It is a Geodesic dome (the first of its kind), which is composed of a complex network of triangles. My colleagues told me that this ride was sponsored and hosted by AT&T! They said that, as employees, we get to use the reception center associated with the ride. That sounded like a wonderful employee benefit! I didn’t quite realize how cool this benefit was till we actually got there.
On that day, the lines for Spaceship Earth were up to ~90 mins long! I walked up to the Disney employee there and flashed my AT&T badge and she directed us to the private reception entrance for AT&T employees. There the secretary took us to a cozy reception area and asked us to relax, help ourselves to the snacks and drinks and let her know when we were ready for the ride! Wow! That was royal treatment. My family was thoroughly impressed! After soaking in the warmth of the welcoming reception and resting for a bit, the lady took us through a secret employee entrance to the front of the ride. It was all coordinated in such a subtle way that others in the line would not get a hint that someone was being given a preferential treatment. Even though it is an employee benefit and a privilege, I can understand if others who stood in line for over hour and half would be upset, jealous and resentful! This reminded me of the folks in India with money, power and/or powerful connections, who bypass long queues at temples! I do remember the feeling of pride and joy at being given this special attention and at the same time it was also laced with a tinge of guilt every time we took advantage of this benefit. I get the same feeling whenever I am randomly picked to get “TSA PreCheck” at U.S airports, and I get to bypass a long line of travelers! The Spaceship Earth ride, which was narrated by Walter Cronkite (Journalist and CBS news anchorman) was very educational and exhilarating!
Indelible memories of EPCOT and Universal Studios
We did this ride (with separate family groups) several times in the 1990’s. While in Orlando, during one of these trips, we covered the Universal Studios tour as well, which is another fun filled adventure (especially for a movie buff like me!). The “ET Adventure”, which is based on Steven Spielberg’s movie was a hugely popular ride in Universal Studios when we visited in 1996. Similar to the Spaceship Earth, this was also one of the rides that is sponsored by AT&T. It made sense – as the main focus towards the end of the movie is ET desperately trying to “Phone home”.. to communicate with it’s alien family. Even here AT&T employees had the same reception benefits as EPCOT. Unfortunately, just a few months earlier, my division of AT&T Microelectronics was spun off and became Lucent Technologies and that meant I did not have an AT&T badge! 😦 I approached the receptionist, showed my Lucent badge and explained the situation! She understood and said that we would still be covered as ex-AT&T employees till the end of the year! Yipee! That was sweet! We were thrilled that we could draw from that well of hospitality for one last time! We left the ride with fond memories that will last a lifetime and we thanked AT&T Pioneers for their warmth and hospitality!
Glimpses of the future
Airport Square in Lansdale was your average American strip mall. The AT&T Store was next to ToysRUs, which was adjacent to Borders bookstore (sadly, both of these are no more). From the corner of my eyes, I could see the sales lady sizing me up! I am sure she assumed that I was up to no good! I was checking out the display case from all angles, and was probably drooling too, like a dog at an out-of-reach buffet table!
She approached me and said “Anything I can help you with?”.
I pointed to the case that contained AT&T’s leading edge communications marvel called the AT&T EO Communicator and said, “How many of these have you sold”!
That’s not a typical question from a typical customer!
Looking at her puzzled face, I said – “I am sorry.. I should explain.. I also work for AT&T. In the Microelectronics division, up in Lehigh Valley. We designed the main chips that go into this cool gadget”
“Oh.. that is awesome!” she said, as she let her guard down, once she realized that I was not a weirdo or a potential shop-lifter, but just another colleague!
“So… have you sold any? How about other locations? Can you check how the sales are overall?”
She lowered her voice and said, “No .. no sales at all here. Just some people who saw the cool commercials on TV and have come in to stare at it! I think it’s too expensive. Who in their right mind would put down $2000 for a toy like this?”
I was disappointed. This was the first time a product which contained one of our chips was in retail stores. I had worked on one of the 4 main AT&T chips that formed the brain of this phablet (Phone + Tablet). This final product was a collaboration of several groups and organizations (AT&T, EO, General Magic etc..).
AT&T’s version of an IPAD (circa 1993) (photos courtesy – oldcomputers.net)
In the following weeks I made several trips to the store and even brought my family over a few times. If it were 2018, I would have taken several selfies with the display pieces and proudly uploaded to Facebook and bragged about what a genius engineer I was! 😊 Well, this was 1993 and way before Iphones or Facebook and even Internet (of the kind that we are used to)!
AT&T Bell Labs was, as usual, way ahead of its time! This communicator with its futuristic promise was at least 15 years ahead of Apple’s Ipad. It was a contemporary of Apple’s PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) Newton and was much more advanced in terms of it’s communication capabilities. The TV commercial that promoted this communicator, clearly shows how futuristic this design was for 1993!
AT&T Bell labs has contributed immensely to the world of science, engineering, and overall technological advancement. To date, there are 15 Nobel prize winners from Bell Labs. There are inventions that came out of Bell labs, which touch us all every day in some form or the other. For e.g., : Transistors, Laser, Solar Cells, Cellphone Technology, Communication Satellites, Radio Astronomy, evidence of Big Bang, Unix operating system, C and C++ are just a small sample of their key contributions. Twenty five years ago, AT&T had a crystal clear vision of the world that we have today! Check out the “You Will” series of television ads they ran back then predicting what’s to come! While several other companies eventually made these predictions into realities, a lot of the building blocks did come from the work done at AT&T.
While the work I had done was not remotely in the same league as all the fundamental research done at AT&T locations in Murray Hill and Holmdel, New Jersey, I thoroughly enjoyed and am proud of the opportunities that I had as part of AT&T Microelectronics to work on leading edge chips while learning and collaborating with the best in the industry.
Epilogue
When I was getting ready to move from Iowa to Allentown in 1988, to join AT&T Bell Labs, my co-workers tried to paint a bleak picture of Allentown by playing Billy Joel’s song (“Allentown”). Thankfully, I had never heard of Billy Joel or his song back then, so I ignored them. Today (4/3/2020), after 32 years in Allentown and working for : AT&T Bell Labs, Lucent Technologies, PMC Sierra, Agere Systems, LSI, Avago and Broadcom, it’s time for me to get off the bus. My stop has come. It was a wonderful journey where I had the opportunity to work with (and learn from) a great group of professionals and friends, and in the process created 32 years worth of nostalgia (to be used for future blog posts 🙂 )
October 20th 1990 is a very memorable day for us! No! it’s not our wedding day or the day our child was born or any such thing. That was the day we got our first speeding ticket! You all do keep track and celebrate your 1st speeding-ticket-anniversaries, right? 🙂
Here’s what happened…
That was a Saturday and we were excited about going to a party in Allentown, when we were pulled over in Coopersburg! The officer was very polite. He inquired if I knew why he stopped me (hmm.. what’s with this quiz?). I was very nervous and mumbled a “No! officer”. I felt like every one driving by was slowing down to take a look at me! The officer asked me for my driver’s license and registration. Then, after what seemed like a long time he came back with a speeding ticket for $150 and then told us to have a nice day!! I appreciate the politeness .. but that almost felt sarcastic!
“Nice day”?? He pretty much ruined our day. The only saving grace was that the party that we went to, turned out to be a surprise baby shower for Uma!! Of course, THAT is the real reason we remember Oct 20th!
The next day, when I discussed this ticket with friends at work, I got a lot of advice..
“You should have known that Coopersburg is a speed-trap town!” one said.
“Contest it – the cop never shows up and therefore you will beat the ticket” chimed another!
“You should have told him that your taxes pay for his salary”, said another wise guy!
“Next time you should be prepared – when he asks “your eyes are red, have you been drinking?” you should say “Officer, your eyes are glazed, have you been eating donuts!!”
Ahh.. everybody is a comedian.. when passing out such free advice!
A few weeks later, I went to court to contest the ticket. I was dressed in my best jacket and tie, even though, those were usually reserved for weddings and funerals! I had seen enough episodes of “LA Law” to know how the system worked. I walked in with a briefcase in hand. I gave a look that said “I am an engineer, I know what I am doing”, while the faint, nervous voice in my head said “damn, I should have gone to the bathroom before coming in.” I was quite disappointed to see that the officer did show up. When I asked him about the calibration data on the radar, he read out all the dates and measurements – as if he was expecting this exact question! Finally, I opened my brief case and brought out my Exhibit A – a receipt from the grocery store in Coopersburg, where we had stopped earlier to pick up some flowers for our host. Then, I took out Exhibit B – the speeding ticket itself! I told them that the distance from the grocery store to the place where the cop stopped me divided by the time taken should be the speed at which I drove! Based on the evidence, I stated that the speed thus computed does not match what the officer noted. I therefore declared with a flourish that the speeding case against me be thrown out! The judge and the officer were taken aback by this display of theatrics and middle school level time-and-distance math! I was prepared to be yelled at by the judge for wasting his time. Surprisingly, he and the cop had a hearty laugh, after which the judge said something to the effect of “get out of here!” and reduced the fine to $35, I guess just for my efforts! I thanked him and got out of there. I could hear them laughing even from the outside. I can definitely tell you – that was not an “LA LAW” performance.. it was more of a “My Cousin Vinnie” performance!
That day, I had learnt a valuable lesson: no more speeding… in Coopersburg! But, Warrington? That’s an entirely different town and I got my speeding ticket #2 there, a few years later! This was another ticket for 40 mph in a 25 mph zone! I was not as nervous this time around. When I showed up in the court, I did not do the phony lawyer routine. I was dressed in my business casuals. As soon as I walked in, the judge’s face lit up! He pointed to the “Lucent Technologies’” logo on my shirt and said “that’s a great company”! I was befuddled by such an opening! By way of brief background – that was a brief period of glory for Lucent (my employer), when its stock was skyrocketing.
A brief period of glory for Lucent!!
The judge and I reveled in our mutual admiration of Lucent! He said that he had a lot of Lucent stock and of course he was thrilled about its performance. After this bit of distraction, he almost forgot to admonish me on my speeding infraction! He reduced the speed and I just had to pay $25. I gave him a thumbs up while the bewildered cop just looked on!
If you think that I am the only one in the family that’s always speeding, you are totally wrong! Uma had her share of tickets too! There was this one time when she got a ticket for 50 mph in a 35 mph zone! Being the veteran with traffic courts, I accompanied her, to show how it is done! As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw an older gentleman walking slowly . We stopped and waved him on with a smile, while cursing him under our breath for being the slow poke, as we were getting late for our court appointment.
As soon as we got into the court, we saw that the cop was there with all of his documents to make the case… and when the judge showed up, we saw that it was the old man from the parking lot. He recognized us and smiled and winked at us! After that it was smooth sailing. He sent us off with a minor admonishment to Uma for not being careful with the speed. Yay!! Another successful overturning of a speeding ticket!
There are several lessons that I have learnt from all of these court appearances:
Always contest speeding tickets.
Always be respectful to the officer and the judge. They are just doing their job. Having a nasty attitude towards them is not going to do you any good.
Wear proper clothing that will make a good impression. I wonder what would have been the judge’s reaction if I had worn an “Adult World T-shirt” to court!
Be nice to people walking slowly in parking lots… or just everyone around you. You never know who will be in a position to judge you!
(These two pieces were given as speeches at Toastmasters meetings)
Since Yash gave a cinematic presentation of our arranged marriage, I figured I will share my version of our marriage beyond the beginning. Obviously our parents thought of us being a good match for each other, but little did they and we knew how different we were in terms of our personalities and communication styles.
Personality characteristics influence our communication styles. Yash, having a supportive and an easy-going style, was more accepting of my differences than I was of his. He is more sociable, spontaneous, fun-loving, free-spirited, very enthusiastic about trying new things, likes a relaxed, no tension environment and avoids conflict. Contrast this with my direct and analytical communication style, being very goal-oriented, purposeful, organized, and focused on getting things done. I could not understand why Yash wasn’t thrilled about us planning and organizing every detail of our lives to make it a smooth sail. Shouldn’t he be thankful to me for bringing some order and purpose into his life? 🙂 I would get very frustrated with him, and being the direct communicator that I was, I had no trouble expressing that to him. Being the supportive communicator that he was, with a tendency to avoid conflict, he would get quiet, which would only irritate me further.
In the first few months of us living together in Allentown, I would be in the apartment all day while Yash went to work. I was in a foreign land with only 1 or 2 brand new friends that he had introduced me to, who I could talk to on the phone. I did not know how to drive. I couldn’t call home and talk to my parents frequently because every minute cost about $4 while I wasn’t earning a penny. Being home alone all day, I would eagerly wait for him to come home. He would also come home in a good mood but seemed more eager to watch “Cheers” and “Three’s company” than to spend time talking with me. Obviously he wanted me to sit and watch the shows with him, but I had no interest in them because they were so foreign to me. My direct style of expressing frustration didn’t sit very well with his fun-loving and conflict-avoidance style.
On top of these individual differences, there are gender-based differences in conversational styles. Remember, Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus? 🙂 Once we went to a jewelry store to buy something for his mother. I pointed out some pieces that I thought looked good. We bought something for his mother and returned home. I bet the men don’t see anything wrong in this picture, but the women can see it crystal clear, right ladies? Offering to buy me something would’ve showed me that he thought and cared about me. Never mind all the other ways he showed me that. Of course, that was not the time to use my direct communication. I let it brew for a little while until it exploded, and poor Yash had no clue what it was all about. If I wanted something, I should’ve bought it. That’s all there is to it, as far as he was concerned.
Our natural tendency in communication is to use our own style. But if we want to be effective partners, we need to adapt our style to that of the other person. Putting the relationship first makes it a little easier to deal with the differences. With much trial and error, we came to understand and accept our different styles. We learned to make allowances rather than taking the disparities personally. Now when he gets home we watch 1 or 2 shows together, and I plan to do some “spontaneous activities” together. Once in a while Yash takes the initiative and makes to-do lists which makes me happy, and every time I make a passing comment about liking something in a store, I have to literally hold him back from buying it for me.
I wish I did this analysis of our communication styles about 30 years ago; our marriage would have been a less bumpy ride.
That was the question one of Uma’s colleagues (in the US) asked her when they found out that her’s was an arranged marriage. We were both quite amused by the question. I wondered if they thought an arranged marriage was where Uma’s parents forced her to marry me in exchange for a few goats!! I could imagine the concept of an arranged marriage being so foreign to them! In India, back then more than 95% of the marriages were of the “arranged” kind. The rest were called “love marriages”.
Typically, in an arranged marriage – the parents do the initial screening based on their particular criteria in order to narrow down the choices to arrive at a shortlist. This is their own version of “29 points of compatibility” like eHarmony etc. The parents usually look for compatibility of: education, family history, social standing, caste etc.
During my grandparents’ generation, the parents just literally arranged it and the boy and girl would see each other for the first time at the ceremony! When I say boy and girl, I literally mean a boy and girl – as they used to get married quite young. Maybe 10 – 15 yrs old or even younger. These marriages were for forming relationships with other families and to get an extra pair of hands to help out on the farm or in the house. Also, that was a time when some older guys married very young girls, by paying a sort of dowry (known as Kanyasulkam) to the girl’s parents. My maternal grandmother’s marriage was one such case that I had covered in one of my earlier blogs Our Very Own Proof of Heaven?
Indian Newspaper Matrimonial Ads (2018)
By my parents’ time it got a little better. They typically got a chance to meet and have somewhat of a say in the selection. Well, most likely only the guy did. Unfortunately, the girl rarely got asked! My dad was a path-breaking pioneer – he rejected the suggested local , uneducated girls from the village (who were ideal from his parents’ point of view – as they would start helping with farm work and chores right away). My dad wanted to marry an equally qualified college educated woman. For this, he did his own groundwork via “matrimonial ads” in newspapers, and finally connected with my mom’s family in the neighboring zilla (county). This was quite revolutionary back then. He was asked by his folks, “What’s wrong with all the girls in our village that you had to go all the way to the next zilla (County)?”
As for me – I was working in Iowa and had gone home to India for vacation and to attend my brother’s wedding. My parents thought that since the elder son was getting settled, it was time for me to get hitched as well! So, they suggested Uma. Uma’s family was friends of ours. They used to live across the street from us when she was in pre-school.
While the families had known each other and have been friends, we haven’t ever talked to each other before. I liked the proposal and told my parents that I wanted to talk to Uma one on one (which apparently was considered an unusual request back then, and was promptly attributed to my exposure to western culture).
One evening, my dad and I stopped by at their place for tea. Of course, this was no ordinary casual visit. It was specifically for the explicit purpose of deciding if we would be a good match. NOT for dating, but for getting married! In a sense it is like those “coffee meetups”, except it was at the girl’s house when the entire family was right there hovering around. We were expected to give the go/no-go signal at the end of that one meeting!
This is like a job interview, and like any job interview, the fact that we were sitting down for the interview meant that we both had passed the initial screening. We were trying to see if the in-person interview confirmed what was promised in the resume.
“Hmm.. he looks quite different from the photo that was sent earlier? Was it photo-shopped?”
“She looks shorter than what they claimed?”
“Is he stuttering? Is he just nervous or is that a real problem?” etc…
Even before we get to such physical and superficial tests, aspects of behavior and personality were typically checked out through 3rd party references. For e.g, if someone you know was a student in the same college as the “candidate”, you ask, “Do you know if he is a good kid?”, “Does he have any bad habits?”. Remember this was before Internet, so there were no Facebook photos of you partying at spring break or video clips of your racist rant or even videos of you helping the blind lady cross the road! So, a lot of the background checking happens through the network of family and friends. By the time we are down for “the interview” – most of the decision would already have been made.
After the initial pleasantries, Uma and I got to go to the terrace of their house for the “interview” portion of the evening!
As can be imagined, this was extremely awkward for both of us!
I quickly got to the point and covered 3 items that I considered were important:
Are you interested in getting married to me? You are not being forced by your parents, right?
I am very happy in the US. I like it there and have no immediate plans of coming back to India. Are you OK with moving to the US?
I explained that I was not into religious rituals and that I would respect her beliefs whatever they may be. I expected the same tolerance for my lack of beliefs.
Finally, I asked her if she had any questions for me?
She had none..
She did answer the 3 questions to my satisfaction..
That was the end of our roof-top interview session!
Next day I told my parents that I wanted to get married to Uma. My parents informed her parents and we were engaged. I returned to the US less than a week later. All my colleagues at work were shocked that you could go on a vacation and come back engaged, just like that! Yep.. that was their first exposure to how marriages got “arranged”!
Engaged!
Last year, our daughter got married to someone she met in college. A “love marriage”, if you will. So, in our immediate family we’ve had a variety of marriages – from traditional arranged marriages to a love marriage!
I am guessing that you all are now curious if I am happily married? The answer is a resounding and emphatic “YES”!!
She reads my blogs… Do you think I will give any other answer? 🙂
Feel free to write about your own experiences/vignettes with arranged/love marriages below in the comments section..
Growing up in Hyderabad, Ravi, Sridhar and Srinivas were very common names, with there being 3-4 in each middle school class. So, by necessity we had to add a descriptive prefix or suffix to the names. There was choTa Ravi, moTa Ravi, PeddA Sridhar, chinna Sridhar etc. Ravi was – choTa Ravi, potti Ravi, MN Ravi Kumar, MNRK, Kannada Ravi and more recently Ravi Mysore. ChoTa Ravi, with a baDaa dil left a void for all of us that is much bigger than his physical self. We recently gathered to reminisce about the fun times we had with Ravi all these years and to honor his memory. Please join me in this walk down memory lane
Open House @ Pratap Mahal
Picture an old apartment complex. Two floors of tightly packed units seemingly representing all of middle class India. There was plenty of open space, and all this was enclosed in a compound wall. This was the famous Pratap Mahal complex of Khairatabad. It was just a few blocks from the main road and you’d get to it by walking on a narrow road that straddles a naala (creek) on one side and the Institution of Engineers building on the other. At the end of the road, you will enter Pratap Mahal, which was next door to Nasr School, which was a prestigious school for girls.
My best friend Ravi and his family lived in the corner unit and I was a fixture at their place from 1975 onwards. We were classmates from 7th grade in Kendriya Vidyalaya Golconda, KVG (“passed out” in 1977 🙂 ) and all the way through engineering college (@ JNTU). There were 5 members in the family. Murthy uncle, Rathna Aunty, Ajji (grandmother), Ravi and his younger brother Manju.
It felt like it was always open-house and open-hearts at their place! While we were classmates and friends since 7th grade, we became even closer during college days (Engineering at JNTU).
The gang in August 1983 (From L-R : Yashodhar, Sashi, Ashok, Ravi, Ravi Shankar, Aditya
In Allentown (1989) with Ravi, Aunty, Uncle and Manju)
Ravi, Ravi Shankar, Ashok, Aditya and I became very close during the last few years in college and we used to study together. We used to call it “combined studies”, and to be sure, there was some amount of studying involved too! Coincidentally (wink-wink) it was almost always in Ravi’s house (or Ravi Shankar’s sometimes). I am sure it had something to do with the inviting-atmosphere or the awesome music or yummy food during breaks!! This is where I got my intro to Kannada language and Kannada oota – anna, pallya, saaru, thuppa, BisiBeleBhath, uppitte, dosa, sandige and proper Mysore coffee with just the right amount of chicory (that aunty used to get it ground up at this coffee mill in Khairatabad). Aunty and Uncle were always the most welcoming and gracious hosts ever. Aunty would talk in slightly accented Telugu. I have never heard uncle talk in Telugu. Ravi could manage Telugu quite well, although it was heavily accented and did not have the finesse for some people or situations! When Ravi tried to talk to our classmates Shobha and Jayalakshmi in Telugu, they appreciated his efforts but politely encouraged him to switch back to English. BTW, through all these years of interaction with Ravi and his family – I have picked up enough Kannada to understand the language and manage a few sentences in a pinch!
They had an awesome stereo system with amazing speakers! I had never experienced such a sound system before! By contrast – we just owned a basic cassette player (not even a stereo). Fun fact – Murthy uncle was an avid audiophile and had built several powerful audio amplifiers. The powerful amplifier and large speakers could have easily powered a decent sized discotheque! So, you can imagine what they did to the small living room (or the neighboring apartments)! They had an extensive collection of vinyl LP records. The western collection had Neil Diamond, Simon and Garfunkle, Boney M, Abba, BeeGees, Beatles, Carpenters, John Denver, Cerrone etc just to name a few. The most notable Bollywood one they had was Sholay, which they bought as soon as the movie was released. RD Burman’s score for Sholay blasted from those speakers was phenomenal. We used to spend hours on weekends copying the songs from his extensive collection of vinyls on to cassettes. These were our version of “recording sessions”, and my introduction to western music. We used to come home with all these recordings and blast them away in our puny cassette player. My parents used to freak out and complain about the “racket” we were creating! “What’s all this noise? Why don’t you listen to some nice Indian music?”
There is no better blend of east and west or spiritual and material than listening to MS Subbulakshmi’s “Vishnu-Sahasra-Namam” immediately followed by Boney M’s Daddy Cool or ABBA’s Waterloo or BeeGees’ Stayin Alive!
This was part of the morning routine at the Ravi household. Aunty or maybe Ajji would request Vishu-Sahasra-Namam and then right after that we would start off with the loud BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of BoneyM or Abba or BeeGees! We pretty much monopolized the music. Very rarely did any other (Kannada or Hindi) music get played. I do remember they owned a couple of 45 rpm vinyl records with good Rajan-Nagendra hits like “Neerabittu Nelada Mele Dhoni sagadu” and “Jeeva Veene neeDu miDitada Sangeetha” from the movie “Hombisilu”.
Quizzing Times
In the first year of college, Ravi, Sitaram and I discovered our common love for quizzing. We participated in the college annual quiz competition and beat all the other teams easily. We repeated that for the next 3 years! Ravi was our pop culture expert who came up with the correct obscure details about Rock Stars, western movies etc. to save us in competitions! At various intercollegiate level competitions in Hyderabad, we got a couple of 2nd place finishes and a first place in Nizam College festival! It was always fun showing off our knowledge of the trivia and we made some good friends in the quizzing fraternity – who we kept running into at every competition. We later started our own (short lived) quiz club called “Quizibisa”. I covered all the fun we had during our quizzing days in an earlier blog entry: Who or what, is or was… ?
Bindaas
Both Ravi and I came out of our “shell” in college. We were reserved and kept to ourselves in school. In college, the differences in our basic personalities became apparent and amplified. He became a more spontaneous, free-spirited, outgoing and ”bindaas” type of guy. In contrast, I remained a more serious and reserved one, although, his nature did rub off on me over the years. He would make friends easily with folks from other branches of engineering, seniors, juniors, girls etc. He was very approachable and didn’t have the traditional airs of someone who is a couple of years senior in college. He was always helpful and would dole out advice to the juniors on which topics to focus on for exams and which professors repeated old exam papers etc. By the time we graduated (in 1983) and I moved to the US, he had a large group of close friends from our junior classes who were in touch with him all through these years. Since JNTU days he moved to IIT Kanpur, Gainesville Florida, New Brunswick NJ, Freehold NJ, Conshohocken PA, Ridley Park PA, Bangalore and Columbia Maryland, with one summer in Amsterdam. Since his last move back from Bangalore to Maryland (around 2008), he has continued that “open house – open heart” tradition and helped out his extended family and friends with whatever was needed. Ravi and Chandrika have helped children of several of our friends who were either going to school in the area or moved to the DC area for jobs. Just a couple of months ago he had sent a whatsapp message to our friend and classmate in India offering to help his daughter when she comes over to the US for grad school. He said “Don’t worry, I will help her out! She is the same age as my kids and is like my daughter. That University is only 3.5 hrs. from my house!!” That is so typical of Ravi!
Four Turbaned Ravis at Ramya’s wedding
Torrent of Memories
When black and white television was first introduced in Hyderabad, Doordarshan used to televise one movie per week (on Sundays). I used to come down to Pratap Mahal to watch the movie (as we did not own a TV back then). It was always a fun experience! We would sit outside and watch through the window, because there would be a sizable crowd already in the living room and also it was more fun goofing off with friends (and trying out one-liners) than sitting and seriously following the movie! Sweet memories..
As a goof, we all decided that Ravi should contest in the student body elections (for General Secretary) to represent the cool and nerdy non-political students! There were two extremely polarized politically supported candidates representing ABVP and PDSU, who could not give a proper speech in English (we thought) and that was where Ravi would come in and dazzle everyone, we thought! Of course, these were not intellectually challenging times or elections, so nobody cared about this “independent candidate”. As expected, one of them won and Ravi came in a distant 3rd place. But on the bright side, while we did get threatened with violence (which was quite normal during student elections, in those days), we actually did not get beat up. We did have a lot of fun networking with the student body and also provided much needed comic relief!
With Sashi. Modelling the ‘election campaign look’ 🙂
On the college trip to the Thermal power plant, we had a sumptuous lunch at Ashok’s relative’s house in Vijayawada. After that Ravi, Ravi Shankar and I came back to the hotel room and on the way had some MeeTaPaan. We got back to the room and passed out for several hours. We were so out-of-it that we did not even shut the door of the hotel room. We suspected that the Paan was spiked with some kind of drug!
Ravi and I came up with an original approach to calm ourselves before stressful exams. We picked a Neil Diamond song (“Solitary Man”) that we both loved and then used it to calm our minds for weeks before the exam. Then on the day of the exam, we listened to this just before going to college. This Pavlovian method worked wonders! Looks like we came up with an early form of “Mindfulness”!!
I have vivid memories of experiencing my first (and only) full Solar eclipse with Ravi at Pratap Mahal on Feb 16th 1980.
Ravi, Ravi Shankar and I did a month of summer Internship at HAL – Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (thanks to Murthy Uncle who worked there). It was here that we saw the application of what we had learnt in the dreaded “Antennas and Wave Propagation” class)
Ravi and I were regulars at all the movie theaters in the city that showed western movies – Skyline, Sangeet, Liberty, Plaza and Paradise. I have fond memories of watching some of the classics in these old stand-alone theaters – Saturday Night Fever, Jaws, Godfather, Airplane (released in India as “Flying High”), Raiders of the Lost Ark etc.
Just before we graduated from college, the gang of 5 (Aditya, Ashok, Ravi, Ravi Shankar and I), went on an outing to Ananthagiri Hills, which was a nice forested area and had a government guest house on the top of a hill offering amazing panoramic views. It was about 50 miles to the west of Hyderabad. We took 3 scooters. On the way back Ravi’s scooter died! We could not find a way to get it fixed. So, we did the next best thing – to tie that scooter with a rope to another one and tow it all the way! This was some precarious towing over 20 miles while Ravi Shankar balanced the dead Vespa being pulled by a rope. Obviously there was no easy mechanism for him to know if the guy pulling would need to brake! How we managed to pull that off (pun intended) is one of those youthful miracles that cannot be explained!
Over the years our typical phone calls would always start off with a mock Kannada conversation (remember that my Kannada is limited to basic pleasantries) : “Yo Ravi.. Yen MaaDthaide?”, “Yaenu iLLa Yashodhar.. Chenna Gi Dira?” “, “Of course, Chenna gir gaya”! , “Yaaru Beku ree?” “Meena Bakery”!! Ha.. ha!! I had a very similar conversation in the 1st week of May when we talked about the kids and long term plans etc. He was his usual mellow self (which was a gradual change over the years from his boisterous college days). Before we ended the conversation he touched on his and Chandrika’s plans of moving back to India for retirement. That would be our last conversation, as he passed away 2 weeks later on May 20th 2018, quite suddenly, drowning all of his loved ones in shock, dismay and sorrow.
Celebration of his life on June 30th 2018
With JNTU friends
With Jyothi, representing school friends
I will cherish these fond memories of Ravi forever! Chandrika, Ganesh and Ajay have a large extended family here in the US. We are all part of that extended family and we are here for the journey forward with Ravi always in our hearts.
I would love to hear your personal fun stories of/with Ravi. Please add them in the comments section below..
The trick to making soft and delicious Gulab Jamuns is the butter that you drizzle into the Bisquick and Carnation milk powder while mixing and kneading into little balls! This little tip was not in the recipe that I copied from Cedar Rapids public library. I am proud to say that it’s something that I came up with! This was just one of many gastronomic techniques that I had developed during my bachelor days in Iowa!
More science than art!
Like every other Indian grad student in the US, I learned cooking from those that came before us. Every student’s pantry had the requisite cans of Garbanzo beans (for Chhole) and Red Kidney beans (for Rajma). Starting with the easy staples of Chhole , Rajma, scrambled eggs and V8 sambars we eventually graduated to pizzas made from scratch as well as more complicated sounding Indian non veg items. Every desi grad student was self-taught and, by the end of the first semester, could easily whip up a meal for the roommates as well as for weekend parties. The new comers just watched and learned. It was no big deal .. a little bit of this and little bit of that and then go crazy with the spices and cook the hell out of the whole mess and voila.. in no time you are a genius in the kitchen (at least in your mind)!
When I started living by myself as a working bachelor, I did try and bring some finesse to the cooking style and even consulted some recipe books to expand my repertoire! I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Saranya Mandava – a copy of whose popular recipe book was acquired from a friend. This was the first recipe book that had all the traditional Indian (and Andhra) dishes suitable for the US market! During those bachelor days in Iowa, I had the patience, time and aptitude to experiment in the kitchen – and more importantly, there was no one to throw cold water on my enthusiasm. Even if the end result was an inedible horrible mess, (not that it ever was), didn’t Thomas Edison fail multiple times before he hit on that perfect element for the light bulb? I certainly was no less of a scientist in the kitchen!
Back in those Cedar Rapids days, when I was craving for Idlis (South Indian breakfast/brunch item) — I used an Idli mix packet (imported from an Indian store in Chicago) to make one large idli as shown – using the inverted lid of a rice cooker for pouring the batter and steaming it, in a 5 qt dutch oven (since I didn’t own the requisite “Idli Plates”). It was perfect! Who cares what its shape was as long as it tasted authentic! This was also the first time I had made the traditional Idli chutney with Peanuts+Coconut+Tamarind+Chilli peppers!
One Big Idli!!
Another time,when I felt like having proper whole wheat chapatis and not the store bought tortillas, I started with whole wheat flour and improvised with a 2 liter bottle of coke (as a substitute for a rolling pin)! Ahh.. how can I forget those early days when the smoke alarm used to trip quite often (or the time when the apartment supervisor showed up in panic), just because I ended up with blackened Cajun Chapatis (quite unintended, of course)!!
Queen of her domain!
By the time Uma arrived on the scene, I was already an expert at cooking and more importantly, I enjoyed cooking! When Uma was in college, her mom had told her – “Once you learn cooking, you will be cooking for the rest of your life.. so there’s no rush , you can learn later”. So she had never stepped in a kitchen till she came to the US! Which is no big deal, as that was the case with me as well! Uma came to the US armed with a few written recipes from her mom and a recipe booklet! I was her first cooking guru. I taught her the basics and the rest is an amalgam of recipes, phone consultation with me (while I was at work) and hours and hours of phone consultation with her mom (AT&T did send us a thank-you note that year for helping them meet their revenue goals)! As far as cooking is concerned we are polar opposites – She doesn’t really enjoy cooking, but does an excellent job of it when she does cook and is very particular about starting and ending with a clean kitchen. I, on the other hand, love to experiment in the kitchen, and have been told that I “leave a mess behind” (of course, that’s debatable, in my opinion). 🙂
In 1989 Uma came to the US armed with these recipe notes
Uma is a strict traditionalist in her style of cooking. She will not mix two ingredients or spices unless her original notes or her mom says it’s OK to do that! She still hates cooking – but whatever she cooks is tasty and traditional! (I am required to mention this per the legal contract!). 🙂 She rules over the kitchen and says that I make a mess and create extra work for her when I do cook! She gets upset that I don’t follow a recipe or that I do not name the item till it’s all done (really, who knows what it will turn out to be anyway). I have essentially been kicked out of the kitchen for all practical purposes and only invited to take care of a few selected items which are my signature items, such as the aforementioned Idli chutney, Avial (which morphed into Vegetable Korma – after some key ingredients were subtracted by family members) and Masala chai (which I have been told is too strong, sometimes)!
Today, I am happy to report that after all these years, a little bit of me has rubbed off on Uma and vice versa. She is in the mood for experimenting with different spice blends as well as some combinations of vegetables which were a taboo earlier. As for me, I have been more careful to not make a mess (“an ounce of prevention…”) while cooking. She has picked up newer recipes from VahReVah.com and also added her own twists to some of the recipes to come up with awesome results! She makes a mean Hyderabadi biryani and authentic Paalak Paneer!
On one winter weekend morning, the kids wanted pancakes or waffles for breakfast but Uma and I were not quite in the mood for a sweet breakfast. So, I experimented with topping the waffle with chopped onion, chilli pepper and some Andhra style gun powder! The delectable result was thoroughly appreciated by 2 out of the 4 in the family. The other 2 screamed – “Sacrilege”!
Belgian Waffle —>> Mysore Masala Waffle
There was another time when we bought Paani Puri shells from store and got very creative with the filling – different salsas, Adobo, Cajun and Creole seasonings instead of the usual ‘Pani’. The kids used to turn out delicious Naanzas (Naan + Pizza) for a quick meal – improvising different toppings based on whatever was available in the house! So, all in all the inventive streak does run in the family.. and we have fun with it!
Chicken Biryani (Paprika waala)!
In those early days in Allentown, when we were hosting a party, I was making chicken curry and as usual, I wanted to experiment with some new spices (I was always a scientist in the kitchen!), so I decided to add paprika in addition to chilli powder. The end result looked very impressive, till I tasted it and realized that it was extremely bitter! We panicked briefly… and then, with guests arriving in less than an hour, I jumped into the the Mr Fix-it mode! I quickly washed every single piece of chicken under running water and then turned it all into chicken biryani! The guests thoroughly enjoyed the dinner and especially loved the biryani. When they asked for the recipe, we gave it to them – every single step including the first pass with paprika and washing the pieces in the sink! I am not sure if they remember this, but after 27 years, we still remember this (and chuckle) like it happened yesterday! 🙂
As Ramya and Vidya get ready to try out Indian cooking on their own, I decided to create a cheat sheet of sorts for them as well as all others who like Indian food but are generally intimidated by the seemingly complicated steps involved in preparing it.
Intro to Indian Cooking (Click on the link below for enlarged view)
Most likely, because of my experience and interest in cooking, I am too analytical (when it comes to food) for my own good. Whenever we emerge from a restaurant, I immediately deconstruct every item we had for lunch/dinner down to its nuts and bolts to minimize the chef’s efforts (and to ruin the experience for the family)! ):
“Looks like they went crazy with the Aamchoor in that Chhole!”
“$7.99 for that Double-Ka-MeeTa?? I can make that in 20 mins with toasted bread, milk and nuts!”
“That biriyani reminds me of our twice cooked paprika chicken biriyani.. wonder how they got hold of our family recipe?”
“Hmm that Gulab Jamun seems to have the stamp of approval from the American Dental Association!!”
Sweet Tooth?
Back in Iowa, where it all started, when word spread among my friends in and around Cedar Rapids/Iowa City that I was a Gulab Jamun expert, I started getting requests to make and bring some for parties. One particular party stands out in my mind after all these years (for reasons that will become apparent soon)! It was a big gathering in Iowa City for someone’s farewell dinner (I think). They asked me to come over and make my world famous Gulab Jamun. I was, of course, more than happy to oblige. I followed the recipe word to word, including the trick about butter in the Bisquick and Carnation milk powder. I must have made almost 100 of these balls! Some of the ladies at the event suggested that I should start my own catering business! I pushed any such suggestions aside with a modest/sheepish smile. When it was all said and done, just before arranging the food, I tasted one of the syrupy balls and I almost chipped a tooth! It was as hard as a marble. I could not believe that my tried and true formula failed me in such a massive, humiliating way! Someone said “Don’t worry, they are not too hard.” to console me!.. One good thing that came out of that disaster – No one dared to ask me to come over and cook ANYTHING after that!
(This story is certified 100% Organic and 95% non-fiction!)
We were on fire! It must have been our lucky day- we were breezing through all the questions…
“Who is Lot’s wife?”
“What is Mahayana?”
“What is Hejira”
“Who is Odin?”
There – we demolished the Religion and Mythology category on Jeopardy and high five’ed each other as the show went to a break before “Final Jeopardy”.
It was winter break for Vidya and this was our daily routine as soon as I came home from work. We would sit down with unhealthy munchies in front of the TV waiting for Jeopardy to start. For years now, Alex Trebek (the host of Jeopardy) has been an intimate part of our evening/dinner routine! We would answer (or “question” in this case -as Jeopardy has an “Answer & Question” format and not the other way around) along with the contestants. We had our favorite categories – Vidya’s were Pop & Rock Music, Mythologies, Geography & Current affairs. I was generally good at Religion, 70s, 80s, 90s Pop culture & TV shows, Movies and Current Affairs. It turns out that, under pressure, we were pretty good at making intelligent guesses. We were both pretty good that day! Barring categories like Sports, British Monarchy, American History, etc., I was generally good at Jeopardy, as long as I was in my pajamas in my family room and in front of my TV! I would probably fail miserably if I had to do that in the studio! In fact I may not even make it past the qualifier rounds!
Nothing Trivial about this Pursuit
Early in our freshmen year of Engineering (1978 in Hyderabad, India), my buddies Sitaram, Ravi and I discovered that we had something in common – all three of us loved digging up and storing obscure & generally “useless” information! I was thrilled to find this niche that we were good at! We used to show off to each other and others around us, at every possible opportunity…
“What is Karen Lunel famous for?”
“Who wrote the script for the English version of Dev Anand and Waheeda Rehman starrer ‘Guide’?”
“In a Vintner’s world – who or what is a punt?”
Remember – this was all before internet, Google, mobile phones, etc… heck, forget about a mobilephone.. we did not have any phone in the house. It was before quizzing was made popular by “Quiz Time” (the TV Show by Siddhartha Basu)!
Sitaram had prior experience with the quizzing circuit of Hyderabad and was plugged into what competitions were scheduled and how we could get in. He was the de facto leader of the team and was an expert on current affairs (world & Indian) and overall general knowledge. He had friends and acquaintances in the circuit. He would point out the strengths and weaknesses of the regulars to Ravi and me. As we went to a few of these, even Ravi and I started recognizing the regulars among the contestants as well as the Quiz masters. There were teams from all the prestigious schools/colleges of Hyderabad.
The regulars included teams from Hyderabad Public School (HPS), Nizam College, Osmania Engineering, VV College, Little Flowers, etc. There were a whole range of characters among the participants – from the snobs of HPS to the shy ones from “Madapati Hanumanth Rao High School”! Our team managed to surprise everyone (including ourselves) by consistently placing among the top 5 in the city. Among quiz masters, I clearly remember Satya Prasad (of K-Circle) and Y.Prabhakar who were quite popular in the Hyderabadi quizzing circles for their unique styles.
Bala the wunderkind
Those days, you couldn’t miss Bala at any of the city quizzing events! He stood out at every one of these competitions for the genius that he was. He was probably in 10th or 11th grade and his depth and breadth of knowledge was jaw-dropping! He would go one up on the quiz masters by giving them more than the necessary answers, on questions which were considered extremely obscure to start with! “What’s the name of the character from Homer’s Odyssey, which means ‘burner of ships’?” Bala comes back with “Nausicaa… and her parents were King Alcinous and Queen Arete of Phaeacia”!! We were sure that he had memorized all the volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica. I wouldn’t doubt it – as I saw him in action! He was proficient in every conceivable area. In the audio-visual portion he could identify the 5th of Beethoven as easily as Charukesi Raga! All the girls were in awe of Bala (so it seemed from the jealous corner that we were sitting in, anyway)!
Ravi covered Western, Rock, Pop music areas as well as mythologies. As for myself – somehow pop culture became my thing and then I sharpened this by going through certain magazines that were popular in those days – India Today, Illustrated Weekly of India and Bombay Magazine – from which I culled obscure, useless (for everyone else) details like – “Who is Alyque Padamsee’s wife who acted in the Movie KhaTTa MeeTha. For a bonus point – What was her religion?” I remember once, in the audio/visual section, they played the signature tune of “All India Radio”, and then asked – “This signature tune of AIR was based on Raga Shivaranjani. Who composed it?”. After the first few guys went for the obvious guesses of “Ravi Shankar” or “Hari Prasad Chaurasia”, Bala jumped in with “Walter Kauffman, in 1936, a Jewish refugee, originally from Czechoslovakia, who was then the Director at AIR!”
Certified!!
Our own Quiz club?
It turned out that Bala actually lived not too far from my house. As we kept running into each other at various competitions, we became friends and decided that the city was big enough to accommodate another Quiz Club – so we started one! We named it Quizzibisa (a take-off on the name of the British Afro Pop band – Osibisa)! It was a very small group that met in the Community Hall across from my house. As far as I can remember now, there was Bala, Ravi, I, and a few other friends from my colony. We took turns being the quiz master and running through the standard quiz routine. We started the club with a lot of enthusiasm, but could not sustain it past a couple of months – as real life interfered in the form of crucial exams!
Sure.. This could happen!
On a typical Hyderabadi summer day I was standing at the bus stop with my signature cloth bag and this beautiful girl walked up and said – “Weren’t you the one that won the quiz competition at our college yesterday?!!”. I figured she was from Osmania Medical College, as she had that white coat and stethoscope on her arm. “You guys were amazing! I especially loved how you answered the question about AIR signature tune! By the way – is that tune really in Shivaranjani Raga? I used to think that it was Mohana Raga!”. Looks like she mistook me for one of the guys who actually won the competition! Oh well… no need to clarify these minor details! She was going on and on about specific questions from the other day… “It’s amazing how you guys knew that a grand piano has 16 fewer black keys than white ones!”. “Do you take this bus to go home everyday?” “Wow, really? Me too!”… etc, etc…
That, dear Ramya and Vidya, is how I met your mother! 😉
We drive by “309 Cinema” all the time and never pay any special attention to it. As the name implies, it is a multiplex (quite old.. compared to other multiplexes around here) on Route 309, not far from where we live. We’ve often wondered how it is still in business competing with all the state-of -the-art theaters with fully reclining seats and some that even serve food and drinks inside the hall! Yesterday when Vidya and I walked up to the ticket counter at 9:40 AM and bought a couple of tickets – it evoked waves of nostalgia for me!Continue reading “Popcorn for Breakfast!”
Identifying Krishna was easy! Obviously he was the one with the blue body and trademark gold crown with peacock feathers. By association, we assumed that it was Arjuna standing next to Krishna. They were both dressed in their mythological finery with gold crowns, assorted jewelry, silk costumes and gaudy, garish makeup! I was about 10 years old and this incredible (and indelible) scene played out near my house in SVR Colony in Hyderabad. It was part of the Rama Navami celebrations in our colony – which used to be celebrated with much pomp and ceremony, on a grand scale, over several days! There was a huge Shamiana (tent) and a stage setup on our street in front of Sriram Murthy Uncle’s house. Earlier in the day there were elaborate poojas and other traditional rituals (Seeta-Rama Kalyanam) on that stage, which was beautifully decorated with garlands of chrysanthemum and jasmine as well as mango leaf ‘thoranams’. The rituals ended with the distribution of yummy Prasadam, which was always the highlight of my day! Each night, there were wonderful cultural programs on the stage that regaled us late into the night. The highlight for that particular evening was a mythological drama – an episode from Mahabharata. While everyone was waiting patiently for the drama to start, a few of us sneaked “back stage” – which was really the road in front of Chandraiah uncle’s house! We just stood there wide eyed – gawking at these larger than life actors! When I saw the “Arjuna” actor take a couple of puffs on a cigarette – it just blew me away! That image has been burned into the 10 year old’s memory forever! Before we could recover, a couple of aunties from the colony stopped by to do “hArathi” for the actors. They spotted us and yelled at us to go back and sit with the rest of the audience.
That night’s performance was my first significant exposure to actors and acting and it made quite an impression on me (along with the incongruous ‘Smoking Arjuna’, of course)! Those guys did a superb job of conveying the story through songs and powerful dialog. It did not matter that they had minimal set decoration or musical accompaniment (just a Harmonium) to work with! I was totally mesmerized and transported to a different world altogether! Such was the power of their acting and storytelling! Right then and there I decided that I wanted to be an actor!
This should be Child’s play.. right?
I got my first shot at acting the following year on that same stage – thanks to Smt. Ganga Bhavani – who used to run the colony’s Baalananda Sangham. She was a kind-hearted and patient lady. She probably saw something in me (or it was a case of affirmative action – and mediocre kids needed to be represented as well)! I was given a role with a grand total of 2 lines. I was extremely thrilled. I practiced these lines over and over again. The play was called “InTi mandhu sOnTi kashaayam”. On the D-day, when it was my big moment – I clearly remember taking one look at the audience and panicking! I totally froze and barely whispered the lines! Luckily for the play and the rest of the cast, it turned out that my lines were inconsequential anyway!
Radio Times..
In spite of my less than stellar debut, Ganga Bhavani garu did not give up on me! She gave me yet another acting role – in fact several of them – in a serial Radio Drama that our Baalananda Sangham performed on the Baalanandam program (with Nyayapati Raghava Rao and Nyayapati Kameshwari as Radio Annayya and Akkayya) at All India Radio, Hyderabad! This drama aired on several Sundays and I went around boasting to everyone that I was a star on the Radio. It didn’t matter that I was only playing bit roles – as a servant of the side-kick or part of crowd scenes! That’s how all big stars got their start anyway… right?
Theater Junkie!
During school days, final exam time meant three things – scheduled power cuts, Rama Navami celebrations in the colony and drama competitions at Dad’s office (AG’s office). Telugu Nataka Samithi was the cultural organization at AG’s office and they had their annual drama competitions almost always in April. I was so addicted to these that even during exams, I would walk all the way to the office (2-3 kms), watch every single drama and then walk back home late at night (even if no one from the family came along). I have fond memories of many wonderful performances that I experienced in that open air auditorium. I got a chance to watch amateur thespians as well as seasoned veterans perform on that stage. Paruchuri Venkateshwara Rao – who went on to make his mark as a writer in the movie industry was from AG’s office and was a regular at these competitions. I saw multiple performances by Rallapalli, before he became a successful movie actor. I saw gripping and hilarious performances of “Kanyasulkam” by J.V.Ramanamurthy (as Gireesham) and J.V.Somayajulu (before his successful crossover into the movie industry via “Sankarabharanam”) twice in that year – once at AG’s office auditorium and again at Ravindra Bharati. I was so obsessed with this performance that I used to go around repeating the funny dialogs from Kanayasulkam for weeks!
Breaking a leg (again)!
When I was in 8th grade or so, I found out that they were looking for actors for the school play! I jumped at the opportunity! Once again, I got a role with barely a few lines. I guess my notoriety of excelling at such minimal roles had spread far and wide by then! This Hindi play called “Mrityu Mantri” was to be performed at the school Annual day function. It was an off campus event – at Indira Priyadarshini Auditorium in Public Gardens. Back then it was the 2nd most impressive stage in Hyderabad (after Ravindra Bharati)! So, as you can imagine, it was a fairly big deal! During rehearsals, I received compliments from our Hindi teacher (who was the director of the play).
Dying on stage! Hindi play “Mrityu Mantri” for School Annual Day
Obviously he had high expectations – because he had heard (mostly from me) about my amazing performance on the Radio Drama! On the day of the performance my entire extended family was there to show support! Some of them helped me with my makeup! From backstage, I could hear the bursts of laughter from the audience! Finally it was my turn to make a grand entrance – for which I got a couple of laughs (as expected)! When I turned to face the audience to deliver my precious dialog – my knees started shaking! I froze and just mumbled my lines. The other guy on stage had to repeat my lines! Luckily, it was publicized beforehand that this was a rip-roaring comedy! So, the audience thought all this – including my incoherent mumbling was part of the play!!
I was beginning to see a pattern. Maybe acting wasn’t really my forte! While I loved being a theater junkie – I had decided that I should look elsewhere for better career (and even hobby) options!
My Regards to Broadway!
My first exposure to Broadway style performances was when I saw the “Radio City Christmas Spectacular” in New York. It was a mind blowing experience! The scale of the performance – the number of performers involved, the amazing split-second set changes from a street scene to ornate palace to an ice skating rink was nothing short of miraculous. The entire live orchestra (pit band) of about 30 performers moves from below the stage to the stage level and then is moved 6 feet above the stage level – all while continuing to perform (without missing a beat)! A few years later, we experienced the magic of musical theater – when we saw “Thoroughly Modern Millie” – a Tony award winning musical on Broadway! I wish, if at all possible, that everyone who is in the vicinity could experience at least one Broadway show! It will be an experience that you will never forget!
If you are in the US, there is an easier and cheaper way to experience ‘almost’ Broadway – by checking out your local high school performances! Our local high school, where both of my daughters graduated from, has a wonderful theater program and they put on amazing plays, twice a year. They spend months planning these shows. There are a couple of rounds of auditions to pick the entire cast. Other than the guiding theater staff – the entire show is by the students – including set decoration, costumes, music, choreography etc. I had the opportunity to experience the following amazing performances over the past few years – Music Man, Sound of Music, Beauty and the Beast, Crucible, Children of Eden and Brigadoon. For $10 you get to sample almost Broadway like shows, which in NY would end up costing you ~$200 and up!
North Penn High School’s production of the Broadway musical “Aida”
While a career in the performing arts did not work out for me, I am still crazy about the theater and do hold stage performers in very high regard! Each year, I sit down with chips, salsa and other assorted unhealthy appetizers to enjoy the Tony awards show on TV, the way most people do for Super Bowl! When I watch those amazing live performances, after I applaud and admire the actors – I always end up with self-pity – “if it weren’t for the crippling stage fright, lack of any discernible talent or a face which was meant for Radio – that could easily have been me on that stage!!”
(This article was published in the “TANA 20th Conference Souvenir” in July 2015)
I have opened several bank accounts online in the US in under 10 minutes without the bank folks knowing what I look like!I tried doing the same in India and they wanted photos done a certain way and left thumb impressions as well as my entire family tree listed (along with all sorts of identifying birth marks!) on the application form. Since I needed a few passport sized photos for these types of applications as well as some kind of Power of Attorney documents, I popped into one of the many photo studios that was in the neighborhood.I had done this at CVS or other corner drugstores in the US countless times. You just walk in and get the picture taken with a small point and shoot digital camera and they print out a sheet of 6 or 8 photos and you walk out with the photos in less than 10 minutes.This photo studio in Hyderabad was just a couple of doors down from my in-laws house. It was a small room with several canvas backdrops and fairly sophisticated camera setup. There was the photographer and his assistant. They seemed to be working on the closeup of some lady’s neck (on the computer). After I explained the purpose of my visit, they had me sit down in front of a blue backdrop.Then he clicked away. I am almost certain that I blinked and/or grimaced for most of the shots. These were photos that I would be putting on some routine and boring official forms and you couldn’t blame me for not being excited about the “model photo shoot” that these guys were making me go through!!I took out a wad of cash and asked him how much it was for the photos. He said that I could pay him when I come back to collect the photos! What?? I don’t get the photos now? “Come back in half an hour saar”, “Oh … OK”I went back in 45 mins and stuck my head in to inquire if he was done. He said “No current saar… Come back at 2 o’clock”. Fair enough. There were regular, scheduled power cuts twice a day. It was the way of life there and most people took this in stride. Most businesses managed with generators. Looks like this guy was not quite there. When I stopped by at 2:30pm, the guy and his assistant were both laboring on their computer. He said “take a seat saar” “we will be done soon” What is there to be done.. I wondered aloud. He pointed to the monitor and said, “final touch-ups saar”. I couldn’t believe my eyes – these guys were busy Photoshopping my passport photo like it was gonna go on the cover of Vogue!! I was barely recognizable. They wiped out all wrinkles, spots, etc and gave me a complexion that can only be called beige!Looks like my left eyebrow became a victim of some sort of an aggressive Photoshopping maneuver! The photographer turned to me and said “Can I take another good one..!!” I did not have the heart to yell at him. He seemed quite sincere!! I tried to calm him down with a “It’s not you … it’s me” line. He didn’t see the humor in that! Who knew that photo studio guys took these things so seriously! That would have been the perfect time for Shahrukh Khan to appear out of nowhere, look at the camera and say “Fair and Handsome.. for when the task is beyond the abilities of Photoshop!”. In fact, every photo studio could also be selling boxes of “Fair and Handsome” on the side.. ‘cos we all look forward to a society that is at least “Fair”, right?
I told him that this is just for some official forms and there is no need to redo them. I asked him to go ahead and print these out. Meanwhile one lady stopped by on a scooter, parked it in front of the store, peeked in and said that she needed a “Pelli Choopulu” photo (photo for matrimonial purposes) and wanted to know what kind of clothes would look good. He said “It does not matter… Anything is fine!” Of course.. it doesn’t matter because he will Photoshop it all! No matter what the would-be bride looks like, these guys will turn her into a Katrina Kaif!
Before: Extremely Wheat Complexioned (plus warts and all..)!After: Approaching “Rice Complexioned”. These two photos were taken only 2 days apart!!
The 100 Rupees that I paid for the studio guys has paid itself off many times over in non-stop peals of laughter for the entire family! This photo would be perfect for my Shaadi.com profile!! Sure.. everyone in India is wheat complexioned and 6 ft tall, but only I can bring the unique combination of “almost rice complexioned” and a partial left eyebrow to the table! I’ll just have to wait for the deluge of women that will want to line up for this! Next up… an App that I am working on, which will identify all my imperfections and suggest fixes for them. I’ll call it WifesApp!
-If you feel that religion and entertainment should not be mixed and that you do not want to get the religious (or anti-religious) message from liberal/secular actors who are out to shake your faith.
-If your view of religion (specifically Hinduism) is so skin-deep that it could be hurt by anyone asking innocent questions.
-if you think that your particular guru, swami, baba or spiritual leader can’t stand up to questioning.
-If your view of the message is always colored by who the messenger is. Would you have a different opinion if the movie was from Abhishek Bacchan or Hrithik Roshan or some other generic Hindu sounding actors (instead of Aamir Khan)?
-If you strongly believe that the movie was funded by some Muslim organization or country that is out to malign Hinduism.
-If you are afraid that by watching the movie, your deeply held beliefs could be altered. I personally am under no illusion that people’s minds will be changed by merely watching a movie (that too… on the topic of deep rooted faith)!
-If you feel that for all the time spent in the movie, on Hindu rituals and fake gurus, an equal amount of time should be spent on similar aspects of Christianity and Islam (money grubbing televangelists, molesting catholic priests, Taliban and Boko Haram should be given equal time?)
-If you are offended by male actors showing off their well-toned bodies (almost) in the buff. Remember, they never show Aamir Khan totally naked. There is always a branch or a Boom box that is strategically placed. So, maybe it’s the allusion to male nudity that is the problem for some folks. Meanwhile, there are several such portrayals of women which are usually met with whistles of approval. There are routine and gratuitous displays of blood and gore and disemboweled bodies in movies as well as TV news, magazines and newspapers. This seems quite acceptable. No one is worried about the negative impact of these on impressionable young ones.
If you fall into any of the above categories, please DO NOT watch this movie! It will ruin your day for sure!!
The movie is not attacking Hinduism. It is not even attacking all gurus, babas or spiritual teachers. It is highlighting some specific kind of babas and religious practices. Why not assume that your particular baba is the “good kind”? One who is merely preaching love for all, universal brotherhood, peace, tolerance etc. Not that kind who is always trying to relieve you of your material burdens (e.g., cash or jewelry). In fact, I understand that some of the sayings and ideas used in the movie are from popular religious teachers.
This whole “alien from another star/planet” stopping by, is a very clever vehicle for the director/writer to ask some “innocent” questions about religion, faith etc., which, if asked in any other context would get you thrown out (maybe even get you beat up, just to underscore that we are “peaceful and non-violent” people). Religion generally requires that you suspend critical thinking and curiosity. The PK character does exactly the opposite in the movie.
I thought that the overall treatment of the topic was fairly even handed by the writer and the director. They did not go off and question the existence of a creator. They just questioned some intermediaries (agents) between the creator and the created.
If the worst thing that can happen from watching this movie is that we start questioning instead of blindly following, not just in matters of faith, but in all aspects of our life, then we will be a much more enlightened and tolerant society.
Sure, that whole affair with Sarfaraz in the beginning and the melodrama at the end with the conference call with Pakistani consulate staff seemed too sappy and formulaic! But, hey.. this is still a Bollywood movie and you just have to take certain aspects of it on blind faith (in the director’s abilities to satisfy box-office appeal). Couple of the song and dance sequences looked good on the big screen but none of them so catchy that I would remember after a day.
All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable and funny movie. A perfect dessert after a sumptuous New Year’s lunch! Compared to Aamir’s earlier movies, I would rank this slightly below “Taare Zamin Par” and “3 Idiots.”
As we walked out, we heard the conversation of couple of older white ladies who were in the theater with us… “Wow! What a wonderful movie”, “What a great way to start the New Year!”, “I wonder why it only got 87% on the Rotten Tomatoes website?” One of them even asked me as we exited the theater, “How did you hear about this movie?”, before we could ask them that same question!!
If you have not seen the movie and if you are currently blasting the movie (and/or vandalizing movie theaters in India) for its negative portrayal of your particular religion (based on inciting views from others), then please DO NOT watch this movie, as it could sap the energy out of your righteous indignation!!
No… this is not some clever way of soliciting gift ideas for my wife (Uma’devi’)!! Please read on…
Yesterday, I was just about to wrap up my breakfast ritual of soggy cereal and chai and leave for work while Uma was wrapping up a phone call with my aunt in India.
She had this expression of shocked disbelief as she hung-up the phone!
“What happened? Everything Ok at home?”
“Oh my God! You won’t believe what I just heard.”
“Tell me what happened… and don’t call me god!”
“Your aunt wants me to send a large bottle of ‘scentu’!!”
Sure… it is not often that aunt asks for anything to be sent from the US, but is it really THAT shocking?
“Absolutely… let’s send a good perfume”, I said.
“You don’t understand… your aunt asked for this perfume for the goddess!”
“What?? Ok… let me sit down”
Some background would be in order here…
Aunt lives in the village with my uncle. It’s a typical small village, in Andhra Pradesh (India) inhabited by middle class farming families. The main road that leads into the village is a muddy/slushy one that winds past thatched houses and some pucca (brick and mortar) houses as well. It also goes past multiple temples and a small lake – which stopped being the source of drinking water a few decades ago. Now the villagers buy potable water from the neighboring village. A typical small village in AP!
My aunt is a very religious person. She wakes up at 4:30AM and does an elaborate puja. Twice a week she fasts and does additional pujas. Unlike most of the village folk, she is literate enough to actually read through and chant the mantras in a sing song way. She has personally taken it upon herself to support the local Ramaalayam (Rama Temple). She has donated her time and money to support it. She has on occasion sought donations from us and others for specific temple needs (financial support for the pujari for e.g.). She is a loving and affectionate mother and a grandmother and is very close to us.
Now… back to the jaw-dropping phone conversation that Uma had with my aunt. It seems that the pujari (priest) of one of the temples in the village told aunt that after he ritualistically bathes the idol of the goddess and wraps her with the saree and adorns the idol with jewelry, he felt it would be good to spray some “Scentu” (perfume) on the idol. I am not sure exactly what prompted him to awaken to the realization that this was missing from the routine ritual.
I have seen some elaborate rituals in India (mostly on TV). The ritualistic bathing of the huge statue of Bahubali in Shravanabelagola in 1981 which I saw on TV was a very memorable one and the images are indelible in my mind! So, I am not new to such religious rituals. It is possible that this ritual with the perfume may also be a similar one. It is just that neither Uma nor I had heard about this before.
My first reaction was to ask the pujari’s wife as to what would be a suitable perfume for the “goddess” <wink> <wink>. Uma said that my skeptical imagination was running wild!
I also consulted with that god of eternal knowledge – “Google”, about this question and mostly came up with links such as this: “GoddessLine” , which seem to be targeting gullible folks with perfumes named after assorted exotic sounding goddesses.
I wonder if the pujari was considering the perfume as an alternative to the more traditional agarbathhi (incense)! If not, he certainly hasn’t thought through the olfactory overload caused by an unholy blend of “Chanel#5” & agarbatthi in the same room! I loved the fact that the subtle smell of agarbatthi could transport (even) me – like a Pavlovian dog, to the Poojas and rituals that we all grew up with and I would start salivating at the thought of yummy Prasadam that was sure to follow!
If this perfuming ritual catches on in the temples, then in a few years, when I walk into a Macy’s department store and the overly made-up blonde dressed in a lab coat (like Madam Curie) sprays Calvin Klein’s Obsession sample in my face (without asking for my permission) – it will spontaneously bring back visions of temple rituals and mouthwatering prasadam in my head!! Not a bad visual eh?
“Watch out for the American girls! I heard they are out to trap smart and good looking Indian boys!” – this was the ominous sounding warning from my mother when I came to the US in 1983. It seems she got this piece of advise from her friend (so.. it must be true!). I chuckled and told her that I was safe.
She’s the one?
“Do you like Cheech and Chong movies?” the blond beauty asked, while lovingly running her fingers through my hair!
It’s only been 5 weeks since I came to the US. I was yet to lose the bad habit of staring at everyone. In this case, it is quite understandable – this was a very good looking young college girl standing next to me and saying something. It could have been her accent or the fact that I was not paying full attention to what she said, but I didn’t get it the first time! I suddenly remembered the warning that my mom had given me before leaving for US. I just hoped that this girl would not be too picky about the “smart” and “good looking” attributes and just focused on my Indian-ness! And then .. this smiling and giggling girl repeated
“Do you like Cheech and Chong movies? They are hilarious!”, she said.
“hmm.. I do not know who or what Cheech and Chong are..” – I said, captioning the puzzled look on my face.
Then she went on to give a detailed description of who these guys were and the types of movies they made, all the while giggling and playing with my hair. It took me a little while to figure out the connection between her “Cheech and Chong” references and her giggling. It seems these guys were two comedians who made marijuana/pot themed comedy movies in 1970’s and 1980s! Once this sank in.. I just froze – even more than I was required to (considering that I was in a barber’s chair and she was armed with sharp scissors)! It took me a while but even stupid ‘ol me could put 2 and 2 together! This chick was totally high as a kite! Oh.. and I did not have to guess for too long .. for she came right out and told me that she just smoked a ‘joint’.
In the orientation session that I had at the university or even those informal orientation guidelines given by my roommates and friends, they had not prepared me for this situation. That is, how to react when your hair stylist just announces that she was high (on Pot/Marijuana/Weed) while operating sharp tools inches away from your neck, eyes etc! What are you supposed to say or do? Much later, I did find out (thanks to “Harold and Kumar go to White Castle”) that offering some snacks to them in such situations would be the right thing to do! Intuitively, I did know that I should not make any sudden movements – for the results could range from hilarious to disastrous!
Most of the Indian students at the University went to “Jackie Goran’s Academy of Hair Science” for haircuts as they were the cheapest ($5) and were right there on-campus. It turns out they were cheap because you get the hair cut by students learning to be hair dressers. This was my first visit to the “Academy” and turned out to be quite a memorable one! The giggler came to her senses briefly, just as she announced that she was done. She asked me not to report her to her boss. I gave a faint smile and nodded (that famous Indian bobble head – which is a hybrid of a nod and a shake)! Then her teacher/boss showed up and reviewed the work and gave a huge compliment on my hair – “So thick .. nice & natural curls”. Then she gave specific and academic feedback to the student and then she was off to review the next haircut! As I left .. the hairstylist-in-training giggled some more and said “Thanks for not ratting on me”! I rushed back to the apartment and breathlessly described what just happened, to my bewildered roommates! When they were done having a good laugh, I asked “what does ratting mean?”
Hyderabadi Trimmin’
Growing up in Hyderabad we had quite a contrasting tonsorial experience! Till I was almost 15 years of age – we used to have the haircut at home! Chandraiah who was our barber – would show up on a Sunday once every month or so – without any appointment. Then my dad, brother and I would get standard haircuts one after the other. For some reason, it was decided that this needed to be done in the front yard. It was a beautiful and an unnecessarily public location for such a job. We were surrounded by a Pomegranate tree and several colorful and fragrant flowering plants – Hibiscus, Jasmine, Sampangi. We would sit down on a “PeeTa” – which is a small wooden plank that is only 2 inches off the ground. Chandraiah would squat behind and open up his leather case and go to work.
There were no questions about what and how much to cut or any instructions from us. He did it all very skillfully with just a comb and scissors. He did not ever touch the hair with his hands. Most of the time I was totally embarrassed to be doing this in the front yard. We were always worried that our friends would see this spectacle while walking along the road! We were quite sure that everyone else was getting their hair cut at a fancy Salon (or Saloons as they were called in India). By the time we were in high school – we also started going to one of those saloons in Chintal Basti! I can still visualize the old guy nonchalantly cutting the hair .. taking a break once in a while for bouts of cough and to drag a few puffs on the cigarette. These places were strictly for men and the barbers were always men. There wasn’t much of a small talk or any magazines to flip through while waiting. I am sure it’s quite different now.
Scissors or Clippers?
The first thing I noticed about hair cutting routine in the US was that there are a lot of questions –
“Would you like a shampoo or just wet the hair down?”
“How much off?” — When I say an inch off – they actually do a imaginary measurement with their fingers before cutting!
“How do you want the sides? How about the back”
“Would you like some gel”
“Clippers?”
The place I go to now has computerized records (just like the doctor’s office has my medical records) – so no matter who gets to cut my hair they already know my preferences (clippers or scissors? How much off? etc etc) – ‘cos they look it up based on my phone number. They probably also have a note in the system that asks them to compliment me on my ‘lovely natural curls’ – ‘cos they all do it and it automatically prompts me to add an extra dollar to the tip!
“My name is Jenny” , “So how was your weekend” , “Isn’t it a lovely day?” , “I cant wait to get out of here” — she rattled off even before I was seated and she got hold of the scissors! This was the first time she was cutting my hair.. but she was talking up a storm, with me chiming in once in a while!
I noticed that people are generally quite at ease discussing personal details freely with their barbers/sylists. I told her that my kids were off at school and she mentioned that she and her boy friend were thinking of getting another tattoo!!
These women (I had male stylists only 3 times in 31 years) could take the traditional role of the barkeeper or even a therapist – who engages the patrons in idle banter thereby drawing some interesting conversations and feelings out of them..
“I am the best man in my buddy’s wedding this evening” said one guy getting a buzz cut for the event!
“My boyfriend’s coming back tomorrow after 2 years”.. I thought he was coming back from the war in Iraq or Afghanistan. It turns out (based on further conversation) – that he was in prison for something to do with drugs and she was excitedly primping herself for his homecoming!
Kids getting their trim before school starts – the parents are usually right there giving specific instructions about where to cut and how much! “A close shave with the clippers please, I don’t want to have to come back in 2 weeks!”
Jenny paused from her monologue about tattoos in general and the specific one that they had picked, to announce that she’s done! Before I could stop her, she pulled out a mirror to show me the back of my head – bringing to clear view my bald spot! I smiled and nodded my approval on the good job she did and told her “Extra tip for you next time – if you DO NOT show me my bald spot!” She had a hearty laugh.. and before she could recover, I pointed to the hair on the floor and said “Can you see if you can glue that back there to cover up the bald spot?”
As I walked out .. I told myself that I have to keep looking for the hair stylist that will take me seriously!
In most American Colonial style homes – there is a family room, a kitchen, a living room and a formal dining room on the ground floor and all the bedrooms are upstairs. The family room and kitchen are the ones that get used most downstairs. Even in our house the living room and dining room are barely used. Our living room – ironically, is now a graveyard for all of our musical instruments. There is the upright piano which Ramya and Vidya had practiced on for several years, the alto saxophone – that Vidya had played throughout middle school and high school, an acoustic guitar (which Vidya planned to teach herself from YouTube videos) and my favorite – a brand new tabla set! All these have not been touched in years – except the piano which Vidya does use once in a while when she comes home from college for holidays.
Zam Zam Cafe
I was probably 10 – 11 years old when I first entered an Irani café in Hyderabad. These Irani cafés had lent a unique charm to the city. All Hyderabadis that I meet in the U.S. fondly remember their special Irani restaurant back home which they had frequented while growing up. They all had a lot of stories to tell about their favorite ones. When I first walked into Zam Zam café that summer day, I was awestruck by the atmosphere and the hustle and bustle inside! The owner – who was a fair and well-fed Iranian guy looked down from his high chair behind the counter and said “Kya hona?” (“What do you want”). I just said “Chai” and handed the money and a kettle to him. He counted the money and barked an order – “Chotay! Theen Chaai la re!”
Entrance to Public Gardens
While I waited for the chai to show up I took in the atmosphere. I could see ‘Chotay’ working pretty much all the tables… passing plate-fulls of mini samosas and salty “biskoots” and Pauna Chai. At that time, I thought it was an odd nickname! Later on, when I was in college, I realized that “chotay” was a nickname of choice for any kid that works in these types of establishments. Finally, after what seemed like a long wait, ‘Chotay’ brought back my kettle filled with chai. He looked like he was about the same age as I was. Yet, there he was – practically running the whole place! I was impressed and a bit jealous! I carefully crossed the road back towards Public Gardens. Once inside the Public Gardens complex, I walked along the tree lined road which led to Jawahar Bal Bhavan. I stopped to pick up some ripened Kaala Jamun fruits that had dropped on the road from the massive trees! By the time I reached Bal Bhavan – my mouth and tongue were coated purple! It was almost a 15 min walk back (including the distractions along the way). Once in the building, I made my way to the music room where my tabla teacher was eagerly waiting for his Chai. He grabbed the kettle and without so much as a “thank you” asked me to go back to my tabla set and continue practicing! Yes.., I was back to the boring two notes “Dha Dhin” that the teacher had taught me a week ago! All of the kids that at that tabla summer camp were told to practice just those two notes! Aaargh! This was a large hall with several sets of tablas and sitars lined up along the walls. The campers were clearly split along gender lines. All the girls were playing sitars and boys were on tablas. The paan chewing teacher was playing impressive tabla beats back and forth with his favorite older (teenager) students – while the younger ones got bored with the “Dha Dhin” . This was equivalent to us practicing writing “A” and “B” over and over again, while the teacher and his favorites were showing off the equivalent of writing complex prose and poetry!!
Summer of ’72
Jawahar Bal Bhavan from my recent trip
Since my parents were both working and we had a long summer break, they had put all three of us into the popular summer camp at Bal Bhavan in the Public Gardens which was next to the State Assembly (and across from the All India Radio Station). We had the option to pick from a smorgasbord of activities. I picked – photography, swimming, clay sculpture & tabla! We had learned a lot about composing photos (on our first ever camera – an Agfa Click-3) as well as developing, printing and enlarging photos. We never actually picked up any swimming skills, but my sister and I did pick up a painful eye infection called Trachoma from the swimming pool, which required even more painful treatment which lasted 2 years! I do remember that my brother had learnt an important lesson that summer about the ill-effects on your knees of diving in a kiddie pool (2 feet deep)!
When I first saw the senior students play tabla – I was so impressed that I started dreaming that I would be playing like that at the end of the summer session! After a couple of weeks of working on just the two beats (“Dha Dhin”) – I totally lost all hope that I would ever get to play like those guys! Maybe the teacher was just testing to see if I was seriously interested – i.e. a sort of a tabla aptitude test, before teaching us the rest of the notes? When I told my parents about my maiden visit to an Irani café – they were furious! While Irani cafes were fun hangout places for young men and adults, they did not think it was an appropriate place for a 11 year old to be visiting! Of course, they were also upset that the teacher was making little kids do personal chores for him! Bottom-line.. I was asked to drop that class right away! I did not protest too much, as I was getting quite bored with practicing “Dha Dhin” endlessly!
Tabla lessons – the sequel!
While the desire to learn tabla stayed latent, it was nevertheless very strong for a long time. Whenever, I saw artists like Zakir Hussain and Tanmoy Bose perform in concerts – that latent desire to learn and shine as a tabla player kept erupting.
Later… much later… I found a tabla teacher not far from where I lived in the Philly suburbs. I managed to find a kid in Silicon Valley who was selling his tabla set and bought it for $100. The teacher was excellent. He was patient with me and worked around my crazy work schedule and I did not have to fetch him chai! In fact, since the classes were held in his house, there were times when he offered me chai! Most of his other students were young kids (6 – 18 year olds). At almost 40 years of age I was the oldest of his students. One day I had a chance to see his younger students play and my jaw dropped! Wow, simply wow!! When will I play like that? I was a big fan of fast food, instant noodles, instant soup etc. In that same theme… I wanted to be like Zakir Hussain – with minimal effort. I wanted “Tabla for Dummies” and “Complete Idiot’s Guide to Tabla” and to go from “Yash to Zakir Hussain” in no time (and with no effort)!! Practicing for hours everyday was too much for me. At one point I felt like saying to the teacher “Can we just skip all these Taals and just show me what I have to do to play like “Zakir Hussain and his magic fingers?” I used to joke that if I ever got laid off, I could play tabla in the NY subways to make some money.
After about a year of classes and learning some basic Taals, I decided to buy a brand new tabla set on my next visit to Hyderabad. My dad and I visited the highly recommended shop for musical instruments – “Akbar Miya and Sons”, in the narrow streets of Afzal Gunj. There we sat down and bargained in the true Indian fashion. Dad told Akbar Miya to “give us the best one” and also “You should give us a good price – as he has come all the way from America!” I was almost certain that Akbar Miya just doubled the price in his head! Later when we came home with the set, I sat down and played some of my basic taals for my bemused family. They couldn’t believe that I was still so passionate about tabla after all these years! I then brought the two tabla pieces as my carry-on luggage all the way from Hyderabad to Bombay to Frankfurt to Philly – convincing the customs and security officials along the way that there was nothing explosive hidden inside! Once back, I probably had 3 – 4 classes with the new set. Then things got crazy at work for several months and sadly, I just had to drop out of tabla lessons altogether. That was 15 years ago!
This isn’t over yet!
Every time I go to an Indian concert or see a 7 year old kid or even a non-Indian play amazing tabla on YouTube, my desire to jumpstart the tabla classes is kindled!
It seems like everyone could effortlessly play like Zakir Hussain except me! It’s just not fair! What do I have to do? Put actual effort into this? Oh well! I hope to get back to tabla someday. That is why the tabla set is still in my living room – collecting dust (instead of getting sold off on eBay or Craigslist!!). Till then I will keep drumming my fingers on the dining table, on the steering wheel etc.. in the process, annoying my lovely family and my patient car pool friends!
It was our typical 37 mile drive home from work. There I was… navigating the trusted Honda Accord through Coopersburg (trying very hard not get a speeding ticket) as the speed limit suddenly drops down to 35 mph from the usual 55 mph on RT 309, with my car pool buddies (and co-workers)!
My Vietnamese colleague Quan was describing the intricacies of a biasing circuit he was working on for a memory design (his specialty) when all of a sudden he goes “Guess what?? Jumbo shrimp on sale for 2.99/lbs. at Shoprite!” This was way before high speed internet and smart phones! In fact, he did not need any of these… he had all the available best deals in his head magically and like flipping through a Rolodex – he would just land on the right deal for the moment!
The other colleague Mike, a Virginia native and a fellow chip designer, says “My group went to that Indian Buffet place for lunch today! Their Baarfi is too good! Do you guys make Baarfi at home?” “I want to learn how to make Baarfi..” he said with a wink. I could tell he was relishing saying “Baarfi” over and over again. I played along “Sure Mike.. I love Baarfi too!”
Me .. “Guess what? Today Monica Lewinsky turned 28! It seemed like just yesterday she was crawling around on the floor in the Oval Office.” I was the true environmentalist in the car – ‘cos I was the one who was always recycling previous night’s jokes (from TV’s Late Night Comedy shows)!
Commuters R Us!
In 1990 when Uma started her Medical Residency in Philadelphia, we moved from Allentown to Lansdale so that it would be equidistant to both of our work locations. The plan at that time was that we would move back in 4 years after the completion of her Residency. Since then, a lot of things changed in our lives as well as the world around us – but my commute to Allentown remained essentially the same!
Allentown is in the Lehigh Valley along with its twin city of Bethlehem. Most people may not know that Allentown was the place where world’s first solid-state transistor (which paved the way to the computer and Internet revolution) was fabricated by Bell Labs Engineers Shockley, Brattain and Bardeen. Bethlehem used to be the home of Bethlehem Steel – which had a long history and provided steel for Golden Gate, George Washington and Verrazano Narrow bridges, Hoover Dam along with other major projects. Allentown was also made famous by Billy Joel with his song “Allentown” – which depicted (quite negatively) the life of the Lehigh Valley area after the demise of the steel industry in the area!
Lansdale area is essentially a northern suburb of Philadelphia with commuter trains to Philadelphia and several large pharmaceutical industries within short driving distances. Back when we moved there, it had a modest Indian community – but we still had to make weekly pilgrimages to Edison, New Jersey, for Indian groceries and restaurants. Now we have several large Indian grocery stores and restaurants (even a Hyderabadi one!) within a few miles from my house supported by the large Indian/Bangladeshi population in the area.
Earlier, I said that my commute remained essentially the same over the years. But, that is only partly true. Yes… the distance remained the same – a round trip of about 75 miles! But over the years a lot has changed along the way – corn fields turned into massive shopping centers with huge parking lots. I wish I had a time lapse video that showed the rapidly changing landscape: from countryside and cornfield to huge shopping centers with acres and acres of asphalt parking lots. Because of all this development, the total number of traffic lights that I now pass through quadrupled (compared to 1990) – thereby adding to the commute time.
In 1990 – George Bush (senior) was the president and gas was 75c a gallon and Saddam Hussein had grand plans to increase territory by annexing Kuwait. I used to work for AT&T Bell Labs and had a company cell phone that was as big and as heavy as a brick. In order to make calls, I had to pull out its antenna and balance with both hands!
Descent into the Lehigh Valley
During the early years of the commute, I used to listen to a lot of music – Hindi and Telugu songs as well as a variety of classical music on cassette tapes. Later I added talk radio to my repertoire. There was a financial adviser that I used to avidly listento.. Once I even called his show and managed to get through. I explained my situation and asked him if I should buy a house (or rent) in Lansdale for a period of 4 years. He said that it did not make any sense to buy for such a short period of time! So… we went ahead and bought the house anyway! And lived in it for 14 years!
After a few years of driving alone, I came across others at work that happened to be doing the same commute. It made perfect sense to carpool with these guys. Over the years I carpooled with 5 other guys in different combinations. Two of them were Indian, one who grew up in Virginia, who it turns out lived only 2 blocks from my house and 2 Vietnamese guys. Even today, I still carpool with one of my co-workers. Carpooling worked out great for all of us. It saved a lot of money on gas (more on this later). At times we took turns to take a nap if we had worked late previous night and needed to catch up on sleep. Politics and religion are generally considered a no-no in carpools, but in our rides these came up all the time and since we were polar opposites on political topics – we’ve had some very fiery and spirited debates. It certainly helped liven up the boring commute!
Typical Pennsylvania Row Houses in Bethlehem
Overall – carpooling worked because we were all very flexible. There were a couple of instances when halfway through our drive I thought that I had left the iron ON in my house – and that we needed to turn back or the house would burn down or another time when I had left the garage door open and I would be robbed of all my treasures if we didn’t turn back immediately! My friends were very understanding and turned back even if it meant an additional hour and half of commute that day! We were all fairly reasonable drivers and a testimony to that fact is that we never had any accidents or speeding tickets in these past 24 years (on the commute). Outside of the commute it’s a different story – and probably a subject for another blog and another day!
Talk radio was our constant companion and it was mostly local talk shows in the early days that covered about Philadelphia specific topics. Later these evolved into national syndicated talk shows mostly dominated by right wing personalities who knew just the “right” things to say to keep the masses fired up about “gun control”, “the war on Christmas”, “the liberal agenda” or “the corrupting influence of the Hollywood elites” etc.
Transitions
I have driven through the presidencies of George Bush Sr., Bill Clinton, George W Bush and Obama. During these years the gas price ranged from 75c to $3.67 per gallon. In these 24 years my employers changed from AT&T Bell Labs to Lucent to Agere to LSI to Avago (plus a mini detour of 3 years to PMC Sierra – also in the Lehigh Valley area)! The drive itself is a vibrant mix of urban and rural landscapes. We drive by the usual box stores and fast food places – Walmart, McDonalds, Dunkin Donuts, BestBuy etc in Quakertown followed by lush greenery on both sides of Rt 309 for miles. Past Coopersburg, we drive by small roadside stands of home grown fruits and vegetables as well as “The Little Red Honey Stand”. This is a self-serve stand where there would be bottles of fresh honey along with a box to deposit the money in. Here’s a perfect example of honor system at it’s best!
The Little Red Honey Stand (click to enlarge)
In terms of numbers..
The other day on our drive home – I reminisced about my commuting experiences. What amazed me were the numbers! Yes… If we boiled it all down to just numbers – we are talking about 283518 miles driven for work. If there was a way to circumnavigate the Earth with my Honda Accord – I would have covered this more than 11 times with these 283518 miles! I could have easily driven to the moon and a third of the way back with these kind of miles! Want more such analogies? I could have driven 50 round trips from New York to LA!! I calculated that we had spent $17000 in gas for our commute (remember… even till late 2002 the gas price was less than one dollar per gallon). I estimated that I had spent 11172 hours on the road – which is about 465 days that was spent driving to and from Allentown!!
Much more than the numbers…
I ran into Quan the other day after several years. He is now retired and he has sharpened his skills about amazing deals to a whole different level. He told me about an airline credit card which actually “pays you to stay at the hotel in Paris after you get there on business class for free!!” In turn, I told him that I learned I can write off my hair loss and the resulting loss of self-esteem in my taxes! He has over 15 credit cards and got free money from all of them for limited period which he turned around and invested in CDs or even stock and made a lot of money! I always felt (and still feel) like a total beginner when it came to finance and other money matters compared to all of my car pool partners. I lost touch with Mike but recently found out that he is still in the area and works for a start-up chip company. I plan to look him up and re-connect with him. Over the years, I found that the car pool partners were also good sparring partners on all sorts of uncomfortable topics (usually during election times) – but we all got along quite well and remained good friends over these 24 years. Our families became good friends and we even had “Annual Carpool Family Picnics” for a few years and used to keep track of the progress of our kids through school and college. I have to locate Sanjay, Ravi and Mike and plan a “Reunion of the Carpool guys” along with Quan and Thien… like “Seinfeld” and “The Wonder Years” reunion shows! Might even do a road trip up and down Rt 309 for old time’s sake!
Strike and Boycott – two words that I had never heard of while in school were commonplace when I got into Engineering College! It looked like we were boycotting classes for no reason at all or at the whims of the student leaders who had the muscle power and political backing to do whatever they wanted. Halfway through the first year at the JNTU College of Engineering , we found ourselves on strike again. The reason for the strike must not have been too important or compelling, as I do not remember it now. Coming from Kendriya Vidyalaya system of schools (Central Government administered schools for the children of transferable Central Govt employees) where there was heavy emphasis on strict discipline to this engineering college – where there was no respect for authority, the contrast was stark and was quite shocking and amusing for me.
Initially it started as walking out of the classes and raising slogans against whoever/whatever was supposed to be “oppressing us”.. then goofing off on campus, while the militant student leaders did their thing, like throwing stones at passing buses and shouting at the policemen that were lined up and ready for action. The rest of us spent most of our days sipping endless cups of chai in the makeshift canteen which was run by a middle aged north Indian lady near the bicycle stand. She was quite entertaining – regaling us with stories of student life in Delhi. I remember her telling us how “smart and fast the girls of Miranda House” were. She had two kids working for her, appropriately named “Chotu” and “Munna”. Back then, these seemed to be the most popular generic names for every chai wallah’s helpers! These guys would walk around the “campus” peddling chai, yummy samosas and curry puffs to all the students hanging around. It was barely a “campus” – hardly 4-5 acres on which we had the engineering college and a much larger Architecture and Fine Arts College.
Reunion – Bollywood Style!
On day 3 of that particular strike, I could sense that the atmosphere was beginning to get more tense. The students spilled onto the main road across from the college which connected Mehdipatnam area with Nampally/Abids area. Mahavir hospital was directly across from the college on the other side of the road. Slogan-shouting students halted the buses and emptied the horrified passengers from them. Then they flattened the tires of these buses – which essentially made the main road impassable! I watched all this in horror! A line of policemen, looking stern and ready with their Laathis (wooden rod used by police in India as a club) were waiting for the order to thrash the students who were generally disrupting the traffic and creating havoc. I saw one lanky policeman smiling at me.. “Yashodhar?” he said softly.. hesitantly.. I was shocked. He introduced himself as Ramsingh! I immediately made the connection. He was my classmate from KVG (Kendriya Vidyalaya Golconda) – which was my school from 2nd grade to 11th grade! Wow.. This was quite a surprise. I had not seen him since 6th or 7th grade – which would be about 1972! I thought he either dropped out or moved to some other school. I remember he stood out in the class – as the tall one (along with another one- Nasir). He was the quiet and shy type and was always hanging out with his close buddy Ramswaroop (who was at least a foot shorter than Ramsingh). He said that he left KVG and went to a state school after which he went into police force. It felt great connecting with an old friend after almost 6 years. Excitedly and animatedly, we started catching up on the past 6 years right there on the main road surrounded by rioting students and stalled traffic!
“Where is Ramswaroop – your twin, now?” I said with a wink and a smile..
“Guess what – S.Sridhar and Y.V.N are here in JNTU with me – Civil and Mechanical”
“Where is your brother P.Sridhar?”
“Remember Mahalaxmi , who lived in Langerhouse? She is married and has a baby now!”
As the Police Inspector arrived, he had to go back and line up with the rest of his police buddies. I went back to my friends who were quite curious about my police-friend. Luckily for us, that day, the lathicharge (i.e clubbing by the police) did not happen and I did not get thrashed by my long lost friend – which would have been quite a bollywoodesque event!
“two jigri dost get separated after 6th grade and then meet up after several years under tragic circumstances. One is a cop and the other rowdy student! The good guy (cop) gets to beat up the bad guy (student disrupting traffic – and thereby stopping blind-pregnant-old lady from entering the hospital for delivery. Right after a few blows, cop recognizes Yashodhar and then emotional reunion scene ensues “Ramsingh!!” “Yashodhar”!! Hugging followed by a sentimental song. Then each get’s his own heroine to sing songs with etc.. After several song and dance sequences, they both get to fight the real villain – the dirty politician who was behind all the student agitations. Throw in a few more sentimental scenes about the mom losing eyesight in the beginning of the movie and regaining at the end of the movie after singing the heart wrenching song in praise of multiple gods – and we have a 70s style blockbuster!” That evening I went home and told my family and other friends from KVG about meeting my old friend Ramsingh under the unusual circumstances. I located the old photo album – which was bulging with black and white photos. I quickly found the class photo that I was searching for – the one from 5th grade! In fact, that was the only class photo that we ever bought! My brother Sridhar and I were in the same grade from 2nd grade onwards when we transferred to KVG from a state school. For some reason, we never bought any other class photos except for the 5th grade one!!
Class Photo: KVG, 5th grade (1971) (click for enlarged view)
There it was – with our principal Mr Gangal, class teacher Mrs Sudha Mathur , and the entire class in the old KVG school which was in military barracks right next to the wall of the Golconda Fort. Ramsingh was in the middle of the last row along with the other tall ones – Nasir and Arif. These guys were quite literally a foot and half taller than me! It was fun going through the photo – reminiscing about each of the classmates from 5th grade!
“Didn’t Leena become a model? Yes we saw her and her sister Neelam do a fashion show at the convention center in Khairatabad” “Sudha is doing M.B.B.S in Osmania” “Rajan’s dad owned a large poultry farm in Premnagar. I wonder if he followed in his dad’s footsteps” “Remember how Arun got into trouble with Nabi sir for skipping classes and stealing from the army canteen”
As you can see, ours was a co-ed school. But we hardly ever talked with our classmates of opposite sex – out of mortal fear that we’d be teased for having an affair (Ha!) . The only contact I had with a girl (4th or 5th grade) was when one of them violently disapproved of something I said! Those nails did leave scratch marks that lasted for a while!I didn’t notice it back then , but now, I find it remarkable that everyone except two of the girls had a solemn/serious look in this photo.
A Sentimental Fool!
Later we started talking about our graduating class. I started getting very nostalgic and sentimental about the school, my friends and the teachers. I was upset that we did not buy the class photos of other grades especially the one for the final year graduating class. The strike continued to drag on. One day while I was at college, I suddenly decided that I should go to school and see if there was any way that I could now buy a copy of the class photo! I was never the spontaneous and sentimental type person back then (same as today!). So I surprised myself that day by quietly leaving my friends and riding off westward (on my trademark blue BSA sports bicycle) towards Kendriya Vidyalaya Golconda!
So, off I went on the familiar bus route that I had taken for 11 years – from Masab Tank and cutting through the army territory to finally arrive at the school in Langerhouse. We had moved into this new school in about 1973. Back then, we all helped with the landscaping for the brand new school grounds as part of the CCA (Co-Curricular Activity) classes.
I walked into school office – where I met the accountant- Agarwal sir. I introduced myself and explained the reason for my trip back to school. He told me that the school did not have any of the class photos and that I would have to go check with the photographer. He said, “go to Artillery Center Stadium area and just ask anyone about Babbar Studios!” Everyone in school knew that Ramesh Babbar’s (my senior in KVG) family owned the studio and they were the official photographers for all school photos – including class photos and other school functions.
I immediately set off towards Artillery Center Stadium, which was adjacent to the Golconda Fort. This was only about 3 kms from school but back then it felt like it was far far away! Once I got to the stadium area, I pulled into the army housing/offices area next to the stadium and asked the jawans about Babbar Photo Studio. They pointed me to a small grey/light blue single floor building which was quite indistinguishable from all others around it. I don’t remember there being a signboard. I walked in and immediately recognized the photographer. As I mentioned earlier, he was quite a fixture at all school functions. He was tall and fair and had salt and pepper hair. I was out of breath from all the cycling activity as well as from the excitement. It took me a few minutes to calm myself down and explain to him who I was and why I just showed up at his doorstep. He was quite amused by my little spontaneous adventure that day and said that he would be able to help out. After I told him that ours was the class that graduated after 11th grade in 1977, he rifled through what looked like files in a filing cabinet and finally located the negative! I was ecstatic! He told me that he would be able to make me a print if I could wait for an hour! I could not believe it! This was way more than what I had expected. When I left JNTU campus that morning , I had absolutely no expectations of what I would achieve! I was sure he could see the thrilled look on my face! I told him that I could wait for as long as he needed. While he got to work on the photo, I walked out and sat on my parked bicycle. I had to pinch myself to be sure that I was not dreaming..
A Parade of Memories
There I was in front of the studio and I could see the majestic and imposing Golconda fort in the background and the Artillery Center Stadium in the foreground. The stadium was the site of all of our School Annual Sports day events. This was a huge event for the school. The sports day was modeled after Olympics. The entire student body was divided into 4 groups – Subhash House, Nehru house, Patel house and Sastri house, all of which competed in sports and games. In preparation for the sports day, we used to practice calisthenics for months, along with marching with the Army band. There were a lot of popular and rousing tunes that the Army bands used for the marches. I clearly remember this following one, but did not realize till much later that this was the famous marching tune called “Colonel Bogey March” and was used in the world war II movie “The Bridge on River Kwai.”
If I close my eyes, even now I can picture the students in all white emerging through the ceremonial gateway to the loud bugle sounds followed by the army band (in their regal finery). I can still hear Seshgiri Rao sir (our Hindi teacher) – providing commentary from the commentator’s box as we marched with pride. He used to describe the festive and colorful atmosphere and his favorite quotation was the popular poem from our 6th or 7th grade Hindi book –
“Hum Panchi unmukth gagan ke, Pinjar badhh na Ga paayenge” – that nicely summarized the indomitable spirit of the young ones marching through. Excellent English language commentary was provided by Mrs. Ramayya, who had the perfect diction for such commentary.
The parents were also included in some of the games and races as well. I remember my parents winning a prize in the lemon and spoon race one year!
As I was deep in flashback mode, reminiscing about the glorious school days, I had not realized that it was over an hour and that the photographer had walked out to announce that it was done! I snapped out of it and almost ran back in – as I was eager to see the end product
11th Grade graduating class with all of the teachers of the school (1977) (click for enlarged view)
There it was on the drawing board – about 8 x 10 or so in size. He had actually mounted it on a beautiful cardboard frame. I eagerly scanned through to see who all were there! This was a unique photo in the sense that – in addition to all of my classmates and friends it also had the entire staff of the school (both teaching and non-teaching). There was my 2nd grade class teacher Mrs Joseph and all of my 11th grade teachers along with teachers for all the years in between. Right in the middle was Mr Gangal – our principal, uncharacteristically without his suit! I guess it must have been a very hot day! I immediately noted that at least 4 of my classmates were missing from the photo – Ravi, Rangesh, Nagendra and Kanaka .. and, oh yeah.. there’s that broken window that I remember so well!
I repeatedly expressed my gratitude to the photographer for going out of his way to fulfill my request, which he certainly did and so beautifully too! He refused to take any payment for his work and said that he was happy to help out!
I rushed back home with a beaming smile and the class photo! With a dramatic flourish – I unveiled the photo to my surprised family! We all gathered around it and reminisced about every individual that made an indelible impression on us for over 10 years in that school (granted.. some of those impressions were accompanied by choice blessings like – “Naalayak” or “Badthameez”, but they were impressions nevertheless). Sridhar and I promptly wrote down the names of everyone (students and staff) on the back – just so we won’t forget the names as the photo and/or memories fade! Folks.. today, I would like to announce that after 35 years neither the photo nor the memories faded!
If you ever get a chance to be in or near Mysore, you should not miss the opportunity to try Set-dosa and Ravva idli followed by Chow chow bhath and finish the meal off with proper “Mysore filter coffee.” A set-dosa is just that – a set of small fluffy dosas served with kurma and chutney. It looks like a stack of pancakes and is the epitome of mouthwatering deliciousness! Ravva idli is idli (steamed dumplings) made with Sooji or cream of wheat with nuts and other spices. Chow chow bhath is a unique way of serving Upma (savory breakfast staple) and Kesari (sweet Upma) as a combo. I consider these to be the quintessential signature foods of Mysore – kinda like Hyderabadi Biryani or Philadelphia Cheesesteaks!
One morning, my friend Aditya and I found this exact combination of yumminess in front of us in a small nondescript “hotel” in the V.V.Mohalla area of Mysore. Back then (maybe even now, in small towns in India), restaurants were called “hotels” and hotels were called “lodgings.” So, as we took our time savoring the yummy breakfast, we pondered how we ended up in this place.
Both of us are “pucca” Hyderabadis that had never set foot in Bangalore or Mysore before this. We had just graduated from Engineering College with a B.Tech in Electronics and Communications Engineering and had made this trip to Bangalore for my on-site interview at HAL (Hindustan Aeronautics Limited) in Bangalore. Aditya was free and we thought it would be a fun trip to tour Mysore and surroundings. Our buddy and classmate Ravi’s family was originally from Mysore, so he had uncles, aunts and cousins who lived there. Unfortunately he could not make the trip with us, as he had his own post-graduation related interviews/travel. Ravi had raved about the sights of Mysore and surroundings so much that we just had to check them out ourselves. He contacted his uncle in Mysore to help us out with accommodations and other arrangements.
I don’t remember much about our stay in Bangalore or even about the interview in HAL. As expected, time has taken its toll on my memory, but thankfully it left all of the interesting and fun events still intact! Right after the interview, we boarded a bus to Mysore to visit Ravi’s uncle. I clearly remember the road to Mysore, flanked with green fields and coconut trees. The bus took about 3 hours to get to Mysore, which included one scheduled pit stop at a roadside dhaba, where I remember we had the sweetest “tender coconut water” (“Yellneer” in Kannada).
I have vague memories of meeting Ravi’s uncle and cousins and of their house in the Gokulam Park/V.V.Mohalla area. If I close my eyes, even today, I can picture the Gulmohar trees full of the flaming red flowers, and smell the strange mélange of jasmine flowers and the famous Mysore filter coffee!! Mysore had a very distinctive small town atmosphere. Obviously it was a lot less crowded back then, and just as today, Mysore provided a wonderful alternative to the hustle and bustle of Bangalore (and certainly Hyderabad).
For me, Mysore was synonymous with the Maharaja’s Palace, the famous Dassera celebrations, Chamundi Hill and also my favorite author R.K.Narayan’s hometown! As soon as I found out that R.K.Narayan was from Mysore, I wanted to go visit him. All through the trip from Hyderabad to Bangalore to Mysore, I kept talking about visiting R.K.Narayan, the way teenagers go crazy about “One Direction” or Justin Bieber!
That summer I had read RKN’s collection of essays “Next Sunday” as well as his diary called ”My Dateless Diary”, which he wrote during his travel through US in 1958. As there was a good possibility of me going to US for graduate school, I was keen on reading this diary of RKN. His descriptions of specific events and locales in US made such an indelible impression on me that I remember some of them even to this day – “On thanksgiving day millions of turkeys were finished off..”, “The word ‘Grand’ never had a grander role to perform than when describing the Grand Canyon”, “No wonder they call it a railroad – it comes to a stop right in the middle of the road”. He was a bit of a coffee chauvinist – he declared that he wanted his coffee “neither black nor white, but brown which ought to be the colour of honest coffee – that’s how we made it in South India where devotees of perfection in coffee assemble from all over the world.”
Of all of his books, “The Guide” was the one that I loved the most. The way he casually deals with the taboo subject (back then) of adultery is quite remarkable. While I loved the songs and dances in the movie version of “The Guide,” I actually enjoyed reading the book much more. The descriptions of the fictional south Indian town of Malgudi and of interactions between Raju, his mother and his other relatives is so typically south Indian. The movie departs quite a bit from the book, but certainly had its charm and was a big hit. By the way, I recently learned that Nobel prize winner Pearl S. Buck was responsible for the book being turned into a movie. As a matter of fact, she wrote a screenplay for the English version (both English and Hindi versions were simultaneously produced). Pearl also helped Waheeda Rahman (lead actress in the movie) with the English diction. Of course, the Hollywood movie was a huge dud whereas the Hindi version was a runaway success. As an aside, I now live 15 minutes from Pearl S. Buck’s house in “Bucks” County, Pennsylvania.
As soon as I met Ravi’s uncle, I started bugging him about RKN. Do you know if he actually lives here? How can we find out? Can we go visit him? Just for a few minutes? His uncle was nice and patient with me. He said that he would try to find out from his contacts in the local newspaper office. Since we had two days in Mysore, Ravi’s uncle suggested a day-trip to Belur, Halebeedu and Sravanabelagola.
If these stones could talk
The tourist bus was sparsely filled – Aditya and I, a mother and son (~13 years old), a middle-aged couple from North India, a couple of foreigners (possibly European, based on their accents), and another Indian couple. This last couple was seated diagonally across from us. The man was middle-aged and his partner was probably in her late 20’s. The moment the bus left Mysore, the man and the women started getting frisky! This created a very uncomfortable atmosphere for all – especially the mom who had a heck of a time diverting her son’s attention. She kept asking him to look at the “beautiful scenery” outside! This unusual display of public affection (for India, that too in 1980’s) was quite amusing for me and Aditya, and we had our own theories – we said they either just got married or were having an affair!! Later we dismissed the “just married” theory, ‘cos the “affair” story made more sense based on their perceived age difference and also added ‘masala’ to the story that we would later tell everyone! Surprisingly, even the foreigners (white couple) seemed to be shocked by this activity too – they were turning beet red with embarrassment. Yet, of all the people on the bus, they were the most successful in avoiding staring at the show. For the rest of us Indians, staring at others was a national pastime, so we just continued what came naturally!! At each of the stops, the amorous couple would take a break from their activity just to take a quick tour of the sights and then hurry back to the bus!!
Monolithic Statue of Gomateshwara
Beautiful Statue at the feet of Gomateshwara
I had first seen the giant (naked) stone statue of Gomateshwara also known as BaahuBali, on TV – when they had a huge festival called Maha Mastakabhisheka which literally means “the great head bath.”
At this festival, the statue of Gomateshwara, who was a Jain saint, was ritualistically bathed using water, milk, turmeric, etc. The statue which was carved out of a monolith around AD 981 stood about 60 feet tall. The scale of the statue was very impressive. It was quite simple and symmetric. The nakedness was understood and accepted by everyone as part of the Jain digambara tradition (for the saints or ascetics) – and represents the complete victory over earthly desires. There is a lot of history associated with Sravanabelagola that I did not know back then. I was especially surprised to learn that in 298 BC, after abdication of the throne to his son Bindusara, emperor Chandragupta Maurya had spent his last days here as a Jain ascetic, and supposedly fasted to death. I had no idea that he had come this far south.
With my trademark cloth bag of the early eighties, at the Hoyasaleshwara Temple at Halebeedu.
After Sravanabelagola, we headed to the 12th century temples of Belur and Halebeedu. I had heard of Belur and Halebeedu as the famous ancient temples that were used as the backdrop in one of the songs in a popular Telugu movie (Shankarabharanam).
The carvings in these temples were simply amazing and were perfect examples of Hoyasala art and architecture. We could see intricate jewelry that was carved into stone. Elephants and crocodiles were carved along the entire perimeter of the temple along with detailed carvings of the Hindu epics.
Beautiful, Intricate jewelry (carved in stone)! Extreme closeup view of my face included to provide a contrast!
Gandharva Kanya carving – Belur
There were detailed depictions of women in exquisite dance poses. It almost seemed like the sculptors were picking the most challenging postures and situations to show off their skill! The guide used the sunbeam reflected from a tiny mirror as an improvised laser pointer, on the outside of the temples, to point out various minute details of the carvings. He showed us that fashions and hairstyles from the 12th century were making a comeback – like capris, bangs, and up-do’s. He pointed out the depiction of erotic poses and said that this was not a taboo back then (12th century) and that it was considered normal – which caused most of our tour group to turn and stare at “the couple!” The guide also explained how the temples were saved from destruction at the hands of the Bahmani invaders by burying them under a huge mound of sand. There were several similar temples that were destroyed and a precious few that were saved. I was so impressed with these two archaeological sites that I visited them a total of 4 times since my first trip in 1983.
Garuda Statue outside the temple – Belur
Beautiful young woman checking herself out in the handheld mirror – Belur
Belur 1988
Halebeedu 2000
After a long day of being tourists we reached home exhausted, but I perked right up when Ravi’s uncle said that he knew of a gentleman who worked in either a newspaper or a printing press that personally knows RKN!! He asked us to go meet him the next day.
Meeting the Maker of Malgudi
It was so hard to stalk celebrities back then!! No internet or Google! So you had to do it the old fashioned way – rely on your network and word of mouth. You had to have connections with the right people who should be willing to divulge the information. Ravi’s uncle had a friend whose friend knew someone who worked in a newspaper office or printing press. We were told to meet this gentleman at a particular house on the main street, very close to the restaurant. So, as soon as the sumptuous Mysorean breakfast was washed down with the amazing coffee (served in a traditional stainless steel tumbler), we walked the short distance to the address that was given for our contact. We introduced ourselves to the gentleman as Mr. So & So’s friends. He was nice and friendly (since we approached him through “proper channel”). He inquired about our details (just to make sure we were legit, I guess), then he gave us the address of Mr. R.K.Narayan! (Just like that…). I was thrilled and surprised that it was so easy to get the info! The two of us got into an auto rickshaw and asked him to take us to Yadavagiri, specifically to Dasaprakash Hotel in Yadavagiri. RKN’s house was supposed to be diagonally across from Dasaprakash hotel in the area of Mysore called Yadavagiri. We were there in less than 10 minutes. I could immediately tell that Yadavagiri was a posh area of Mysore. It reminded me a lot of Banjara Hills area of Hyderabad.
Self, R.K.Narayan and Aditya (2/3rds of us seem to be excited to be in the photo!)
If it weren’t for this little piece of evidence, I could have named this “My dateless blog entry”
From Dasaprakash hotel, we started walking towards the compound and, just to be sure, inquired with a gentleman we saw walking in that area. Sure enough, he pointed us to the writer’s house! We were quite nervous as we approached the gate. There was no one in sight. So we just opened the gate and walked in, rang the bell and waited. After what seemed like a long time, one young man came out. I don’t exactly remember the wording but I mumbled that we were big fans of RKN and we had come from Hyderabad to meet him. Fittingly enough there was a strong smell of “proper” Mysore coffee wafting out. We waited for what seemed like an eternity. Just when we were thinking of giving up, R.K.Narayan walked out. He looked exactly as I had imagined. He looked fresh (after his morning cup of coffee?). I didn’t know then but I estimate he was about 76 years old and looked quite fit for that age. He was very cordial and talked to us as if we were his friends or neighbors who had stopped by for a chat. “What do you do in Hyderabad?” We told him about how we came to be in Mysore and of our future plans. That I was most likely going to US. Told him how much I loved his books, especially “My Dateless Diary.” He spotted Aditya’s camera. We told him of Aditya’s hobby (photography) and the places we saw on the previous day. “Would you mind posing for a photo or two?” “Not a problem,” he said! We asked his assistant/friend who was there to take a photo of the 3 of us. Just as it looked like we should not be taking more of his time, I thought that I should get his autograph. I am not sure why I was carrying my final year engineering project report – but at that moment that’s all I could find for him to write me a short message – which he readily obliged. Then he wished us well and we bid goodbye and left. It must have been no more than 10 minutes but we were thrilled that we could actually meet and talk to R.K.Narayan! As we headed home, I was grinning from ear-to-ear!
That afternoon we left Mysore for Hyderabad via Bangalore. Visiting Mysore and not seeing the Maharaja’s palace or the Chamundi Hill is like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower or visiting Agra and not seeing the Taj Mahal, but that is exactly what we did. But, I was extremely happy that I was able to meet RKN. The palace could always be visited later, I told myself. I bragged to anyone who would listen and care that I had met RK Narayan! Some of my friends and relatives were impressed with my tenacity. Lot of others did not seem impressed or had not heard of him. After all, we are not talking of meeting Sridevi or Madhuri Dixit!!
In any case, these fond memories will last a lifetime (as evidenced by their longevity so far). Those were simple, innocent times. Today, I would not even drop-in on my neighbors without calling and making sure they are available and free to meet. Now, thinking back, I find my actions of invading his privacy absolutely unacceptable!! Imagine fans showing up at your house and disrupting your routine and life constantly! Thank God we did not get booted out like Sheldon and Penny did when they went to meet Sheldon’s idol Stan Lee (Marvel comic’s creator of Spiderman, Ironman etc)!!
If she were born in a different place and time, I could easily see her being a stand-up comedian (a la Phyllis Diller or Lucille Ball). I have not seen or known anyone of that generation wield humor, wit and sarcasm as well as she did. I am talking about my Ammamma – my maternal grandmother. She passed away last year after a year of battling cancer.
Undated photo
Hard knocks life!!
She was married off at 12, to a 45 year old widower (his 3rd marriage)! I guess this wasn’t much of a shocker back in 1932!! My mom was born when Ammamma was 15 years old. Ammamma was pregnant with her 3rd child when her husband (my grandfather) died tragically of a snake bite in the rice fields. My uncle was born 10 days after the funeral!! She was only 19! She raised the kids with help from her extended family. She made education a priority for her kids, especially my mom – which was unusual in those days (especially in rural India). She herself was literate enough to read and write Telugu and could do farming-related math quite well. Eventually, she took over the reins of the family and the farming. I’m not sure if she was mild and demure when she was young, but she turned out to be a very strong woman out of sheer necessity – because of circumstances. She had a commanding voice and a hot temper and could be harsh when needed. I have seen her in action and have seen grown men cower when dealing with her ferocity!
Undated photo
We lived in the village with her when I was around 2-3 years old, as mom was working in Guntur and dad was posted in Andaman/Nicobar islands. Because of this time as well as regular visits during summer vacations – we had special bonding and memories, as well as endless stories and anecdotes that she remembers and narrates in vivid detail. After my uncle’s untimely passing, she and my aunt lived and managed the household. Together they managed to raise 3 wonderful kids (my cousins) – who are very successful in their lives. About two years ago she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Except for the pain (which was managed), all her faculties were intact and her mind and wit were sharp till the end.
She was not too religious, nor was she an atheist. She did follow some gurus and babas occasionally – but not to the point of performing any bhajans or rituals etc. in other words she was no different than the average indian when it came to religion and belief. I remember that the veranda had framed pictures of : Meerabai with Krishna, Buddha, Gandhi and Jesus Christ.
“My Maternal Uncle, brother, I, Mom and Ammamma – ~1963
Vidya and I were lucky to have spent time with her last july. She had lost a lot of weight and was on pain killers. Her eyes glowed when she first saw us, then she became teary and emotional for a few minutes, then immediately changed mood as if a switch was turned off. She started inquiring about all the great-grand kids and our vacation (we had just come from vacation in Thailand). She insisted that we have our lunch. My aunt served us lunch and mentioned that Ammamma directed her to make specific items that were my favorites from when we used to visit the village during summer holidays. “Chinta chiguru pacchadi & pappu” and fish. We were there with her for less than a day, but we reminisced about my childhood days and summer vacation trips to the villages. All her faculties were in great shape, especially her memory. She would refer to specific incidents and laugh heartily.
“Remember when you and Annayya (brother) stole fish from the fisherman near the lake..” (We were probably 7 and 8 years old. She knows that fisherman. They had a laugh about it later and she would threaten to turn us in for the next few years!!)
“How about when you and Annayya walked halfway to the next village without telling anyone, and we panicked and organized a search party” (we were probably 7 and 8 and decided to explore on our own I guess!)
“Remember how you had spilt the milk which you were supposed to deliver to the dairy center, then came home and lied that the delivery went well..” (Again, everybody in the village knew her very well. So, the loop was closed quickly and my deceit was revealed!)
“What about the time when you fell into the dirty creek when the water buffalo knocked you over..” (This provided for endless jokes and she would mimic my tantrums perfectly. She was excellent at imitating others voices and mannerisms).
Of course, I remember all of these and more, very vividly.
After dinner, she made my cousin dig up an antique, portable manual spinning wheel (to make thread from raw cotton) that was actually in working order. She made my cousin demonstrate the mechanism for us, all the while giving specific instructions to him on its operations. That was her unique style.. When we left next morning, we all got quite emotional, knowing fully well that this is the last that we would be seeing each other. I maintained a brave facade as much as possible. My aunt stuffed a roll of several hundred rupees into Vidya’s palm!! This is a tradition I am very familiar with. Whenever we left the village after vacation, Ammamma or Attha would give us cash as a gift for us to buy whatever we wanted (or turn it in to the parents – which is what we always did!)
Village Library; Used to house the only radio for the entire village in 1960’s
Village Temple, with lake in the background
As the car left the village, through moistened eyes, I could see the palm and coconut trees the village was famous for, the temple and the small library (which is now being used as a place for collective tutoring for the school kids). The lake behind the temple and library (from where we had stolen the fish – at 7 years of age!) still had some lotus flowers (I remember we used to pick these during our vacations). For us, the village would just not be the same, without her.
Back from beyond!!
After we got back to US, we kept getting updates on her condition, through my parents and also through Skype calls to my aunt and cousin. Her condition kept deteriorating and my aunt did yeoman service to take care of her. She was unable to eat anything and was given fluids (a few spoonfuls per day). My cousin from Pennsylvania left immediately in order to be by her side. Before he reached the village, one night , she was in such bad shape and unresponsive that they thought that she was gone. She was probably in a coma for a day or two. When my cousin got there, she was barely there, and was mumbling incoherently. She saw him through barely open eyes. He talked with her and mentioned the great-grand kids. Amazingly, within a day, she completely turned around. After two days she was sitting up, eating and conversing normally. Everyone was amazed at this happy turn of events. In fact, my parents and aunt mentioned that she was even more energetic and talkative than before. She was inquiring about all the relatives, grand and great grand kids! For one so sick, she had an amazing amount of energy. I guess this is what is known as “second wind”!
She told everyone that she saw some bright light and the “Yamadoothalu” (assistants to the Hindu God of death) taking her towards the door/light. Then she heard someone say that it was not her time and for her to go back!! People were awestruck. When my dad told me of this I could not believe my ears!! A “Proof of Heaven/Near Death Experience/Out of Body Experience” in my own family!! I had heard about these kind of experiences/stories, but was always skeptical about them, but now one of these in my own family.. wow.. unbelievable!!
I could not wait to talk to her. As soon as I could, I called up and talked first with my aunt and cousins. They said that she was in good spirits and gave the phone to her. She was ebullient and effervescent. She inquired about Uma and my daughters and their studies. After 10 minutes of miscellaneous conversation, I could not contain myself – so I came right out and asked her. “Ammamma, I heard that you had mentioned about meeting Yamadoothalu and hearing a voice that asked you to go back, since it was not your time yet. Can you tell me more?” Here’s is what she said with a chuckle in her voice “I was just kidding” (“Oorikaylae .. Yegathaaliki”)!
My jaw dropped and stayed dropped for a what seemed like a long time!! The old lady just said the equivalent of “JK LOL”!!
****
A month later she passed away in her sleep. She was about 92 on September 22nd 2012 when she passed away!! (there were no birth certificates in 1920s rural India). End of an era for our family as well as the village!! Till the end, she was quite a character! It turns out that she gave detailed funeral directions to a family friend in advance, including specific items to make for lunch!!
I clearly remember the sendoff at Begumpet airport. The entire extended family and close friends were there. The airport was packed. The ratio of the passengers to “family and friends” was at least 1 to 50!! A majority of the passengers were headed to the “gulf” – which was a popular euphemism for either Dubai or Jeddah. There were several passengers that were getting the royal sendoff in the form of rose garlands, bouquets and “Tilak” ceremonies. Several group photo sessions were happening with different permutations and combinations of guests with the passenger. I was glad that my folks did not go overboard with the sentimental sendoff ceremonies. As it is, I was nervous and overwhelmed with all the attention and anxious about the long journey ahead into the unknown!!
Where the heck is Iowa?!
In the final year of B.Tech at JNTU, I followed the trend that was set by some of the seniors from JNTU, of taking TOEFL, GRE and then narrowing down a set of US and Canadian universities (from Peterson’s guide). I had applied to Ohio State University, the University of Iowa, and Georgia Tech in the US, and McGill University and Concordia University in Canada. The choice of these was mostly based on the fact that I had heard of seniors from JNTU going there. Of all of them, only the University of Iowa gave me an admission (but no scholarship or financial assistance!). At that point I was still waiting for results from two interviews I had – one for Engineering Trainee job in HAL and the other for a Master’s degree in Engineering Management (or some such..) at IIT Madras. Since I didn’t have any better option at that time, we felt it would be prudent to apply and get the Student Visa (from US Embassy in Madras). Getting a student visa was a big deal back then. I knew a lot of students that got rejected – for what seemed like the flimsiest excuses. The day I had my interview – more than 70% of the students got rejected. So when the interviewer asked me to collect the Visa at the end of the day – I just could not believe my ears!!
I had come to a fork in the road (a 3 pronged fork, if you will) – grad school at IIT or HAL job or grad school in the US. By early July, the Engineering Management option was eliminated (by the IIT folks). I wasn’t too upset. “It’s their loss” I said to myself. Then we found out that the HAL job results would not be finalized till late September. So that is how the decision to go to the US was made easy for me by others.
In a great hurry I had to get a loan and start collecting all the data I could about this trip to Iowa. Back then I didn’t have a very clear idea of Iowa’s geographical location with respect to other big cities such as Chicago or New York!! Because of the magic of the internet, today’s students or other first time visitors to the US from India would know every minute detail of this country – including which mall or department store would have good sales for a specific item!!
1983
Today, no one believes me when I tell them that I had not even looked at a detailed map of Iowa to locate Iowa City (with reference to Chicago, for instance) – where the University of Iowa was located. You have to remember that this was before the Internet, cell phones or even PCs. All I could gather was that Iowa was going to be brutally cold and everything in the US would be very expensive. Just to give you all a perspective – back then, $1 = Rs 8!! But then, you have to scale everything down to that time as well. We were a typical middle class family and my dad owned a Vespa scooter (for which he took a loan). No fridge or telephone in the house. We did finally break down and buy a black and white TV (after all the neighbors had graduated to the color TVs!!
I had found out about another student (Narayan) from Hyderabad (Osmania) who was going to the University of Iowa for the fall semester. I managed to track him down and we connected and planned our travels together. Again – I cannot believe how I managed to connect with this other individual in a big city without – cell phones, email, SMS, Facebook etc.!! I guess there was good old-fashioned networking alive and well even before all these high tech advances.
My dad had found out about a Nizam’s scholarship that is given to students going abroad for higher education. They pay for half of the airfare. I applied for this and had an interview (somewhere near Fateh Maidan). As luck would have it, I was selected for this scholarship. I was ecstatic!! Nizam’s trust had only one stipulation – I had to use Air India. Absolutely not a problem for me!! In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed Air India flights and service. A one-way ticket to Chicago was Rs. 8800.0. Nizam’s Trust gave me Rs. 4400 which was a lot of money back then. So I was thrilled and grateful to receive the scholarship.
Flying on Air India meant that I would not be travelling with Narayan – who found a better deal with KLM. So, we decided that we would meet up in Chicago and then travel from there to Iowa City (somehow).
While I didn’t have a clear idea of where Iowa was, everyone else seemed to know a thing or two about the place!! Pack some sweaters they said. Don’t forget spices, daal and tamarind they said. Also, some pots and pans – “ ‘cos you should not waste your dollars on these over there!!” As the D-Day approached, word started getting around that I was headed to the “States”. Several of my parents’ friends (whose kids were already students in the US) stopped by to drop off packages to be taken by me. Packages filled will miscellaneous sweets, spices and pickles!! We had almost 5 kgs of these! On the last day – we were almost considering removing some of my items to make room for these packages! Finally we managed to shut the suitcases – only after I sat on them while my dad forced the latch shut!!
One-Way Ticket to Yankee Land
It is not an exaggeration to say that throughout the several flights (Hyderabad to Bombay to New Delhi to Dubai to Cairo to London to NY), I was at the edge of my seat, wide eyed and marveling at every little detail. I was like a kid in a candy store!! I was excited to get a window seat and I paid attention to every word of the flight attendant’s safety instructions – on every single flight – in case there were going to be specific details about that particular flight. I just could not believe that “the seat cushion could be used as a flotation device in case of a water landing!!” I thoroughly enjoyed the “yummy airline food” (probably for the first and last time! 😊). I had non-stop animated conversations with those seated next to me. If they were annoyed – I did not notice. I was in no mood to notice!! This was the first time I was on a plane. This was the first time I had left home to be on my own. Throughout my schooling and college years – I lived with my parents. I had never even lived in a dorm/hostel. At almost 22 years of age I was stepping into the world as an independent adult (something that most kids do right after high school in the west). There were some Hindi movies shown on the first segment (from New Delhi to Dubai). I do clearly remember watching a couple of Hollywood movies – “An American in Paris” and “Singing in the Rain” on the long flight to New York. That was my first intro to Gene Kelly and his spectacular musicals.
Like most other Indians my exposure to America and American pop culture was mainly from the Hollywood movies and James Hadley Chase thrillers (found out much later that he was actually a British author who perfected the American Gangster genre). Based on the number of airplane disaster movies that I watched – I should be perfectly at home in any airport and airplane. Also, based on all these movies, I was expecting to be welcomed by a blonde and a brunette at JFK airport to take me home. Yes, I said a “blonde AND a brunette”, ‘cos even in my fantasies I am a fair person. If you are thinking- “what about the redheads, blacks and Hispanics?”. I agree, and I blame Hollywood for not having enough of these folks represented in their movies, thereby depriving them of roles in my fantasies! 😊
I didn’t have problem with anyone’s accent in New York or Chicago. I give credit to all the Hollywood movies that we watched in Liberty, Skyline and Sangeet for preparing me for this day!! I am certain that the Americans had plenty of problems with my accent – based on all the “Eh” and “Say what?” that I heard quite a bit in the early years. I do have to credit my favorite author R.K. Narayan for some of the advanced orientation that I got from reading his “My Dateless Diary” – which was his travelogue describing his first visit to the US. Even though it was slightly dated – the essence of his experiences described in the typical RKN style of simple narration laced with subtle humor did make a strong impression on me.
My first impression of New York was limited to that of JFK airport and the people I interacted there. I do remember the polite and smiling customs official who inquired about the packages that I had in my suitcases. “These are sweets only!!” I said with the typical Indian bobble head which indicated a hybrid between yes and no. I am sure he did not understand a word – so he took a pocket knife and cut a hole in the sweets box and then stuck a finger to make sure it wasn’t some sort of drug. Then he let me go. It would be at least a week before I would be oriented enough in this country to be able to pack this box of sweets up and mail to my parent’s friend’s kid.
Kindness of Strangers
On the flight from New York to Chicago, the kind American lady sitting next to me helped me with the descriptions of the food being served. I was surprised that she was able to relate the food in terms of common Indian food items. I believe that it was Angel Hair Pasta that she compared with “Saemiya upma.” She could probably sense that this was my first time in the US. During conversation I told her about my destination (Iowa) and my plans of going there on a bus after meeting up with my friend the next day at the Airport.
At Chicago’s O’Hare airport, after the luggage was collected, an Indian gentleman approached me and introduced himself as Narinder Suri. He was the husband of the white lady that was seated next to me. They along with their 7 year old son had just come back from vacation in India. Mr. Suri asked me about my plans. When I told them that I had planned to stay in the airport till next evening (for my friend’s flight to arrive), he graciously offered to take me home for the evening and then drop me back at the airport the next day. After more than 24 hours of travel I was tired and exhausted and was thankful for their kind offer. At the same time I did not want to be a burden on them. They had just returned from a long vacation and the last thing they would want is to shuttle me around to the airport and bus depot the next day. Mr. Suri insisted and convinced me that it was not a problem for them. So I happily agreed to go with them.
After I left my suitcases in the locker (to be picked up the next day), Mr. Suri’s friend picked us up from the airport for the 20 minute ride to Schaumburg. My first impressions of the American highway system and the nearly empty (by Indian standards), clean roads and all the greenery was from this trip to Schaumburg.
Finally we reached the ranch-type single family home of the Suris in the quiet suburb of Schaumburg. I helped them with the luggage as they began unpacking and picking up the piles of mail that had accumulated during their long vacation. Mrs. Suri gave me some clothes to change into and put my clothes in laundry. In their comfortable guest room that night, I had a very restful sleep – on my first night in the USA.
The next morning was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning and my first weekend morning in the new country and everything was new – the buildings, surroundings and people. Yet, I did not feel uncomfortable at all because of my host’s friendliness and warmth. After breakfast and shower Mr. Suri had to go to a bank and took me along for the ride. I was so impressed by the open and clean suburbs shining in the bright sunny day. Mr. Suri gave me my first orientation on how banks work in the US, about ATM cards and even mentioned about “Money Market” accounts!!
Later that day I helped with some gardening work – weeding and clearing some brush. After an early dinner, I bid farewell to Mrs. Suri and their son. Then Mr. Suri gave me a ride back to O’Hare airport, where we had to pick up my luggage. When we opened the locker, to our horror, we found that red oil had leaked from the mango pickle jars that my parents had packed for me!! This was a terrible mess, and Mr. Suri had helped me get some wipes from the restrooms and clean it up.
Then after figuring out that it would be impossible to connect with my friend at O’Hare, We decided that it would be better for me to proceed to the Greyhound bus station in downtown Chicago. Mr. Suri then drove me to the bus station and got me settled on the bus to Iowa City with the entire luggage (including the leaky pickle jars lugged from halfway around the world!!) carefully loaded on. There was no way that I could have managed all this by myself. I am thankful and forever indebted to the Suris for being so kind and taking care of me in all possible ways when I needed this the most. I then bid farewell to Mr. Suri and promised to send him a copy (cassette) of “Call of the Valley” by Shiv Kumar Sharma and Hari Prasad Chourasia, which was my favorite music back then (Amazingly, it still is one of my all-time favorites). Just as the bus was getting ready to leave, Narayan also managed to get there and hop in..
Final Destination: Hawkeye Country
The bus journey from downtown Chicago to Iowa City was just a blur – as both Narayan and I got hit by a severe case of jet-lag!! We woke up just as the bus pulled into the Greyhound Bus terminal in Iowa City.
It was Saturday evening around 10:00 pm. Iowa City is a small college town with a population of about 50 to 60 thousand, most of which are students and staff at the University. Everyone in town is directly or indirectly associated with the university. We left our suitcases in the locker at the bus terminal and started walking in search of Narayan’s friend Nirmal’s apartment. We were armed with his address and a phone number. After inquiring, we had to walk just 3-4 blocks before we were on Washington St. From the look of it, we could immediately tell that this was a “happening” place. This was downtown Iowa City and the university buildings were right there in the downtown. If you are imagining downtowns with tall buildings and crowded streets – you would be mistaken. This was a typical university town (as I found out much later). There were partying students everywhere—even at 10:30 pm!! This was the weekend before the fall semester would start – which, of course, is the perfect time for students to relax and have fun without the worry of projects, assignments, or exams.
As I stepped into this environment – I was the typical FOB (Fresh off the Boat) Indian (as I found out much later) – staring at everyone as if they were from another planet!! You’d have to forgive me – as I was the one who quite literally came from another planet/culture. I was not used to seeing college students wearing shorts and tank tops. The loud partying of uninhibited students, induced by a liberal consumption of alcohol, on the streets was a sight to see for us newcomers. It took a semester or so for me to gradually lose this desi bad habit of staring!!
We walked up and down Washington St. to try and locate 222 ½ E. Washington for what seemed like a long time. I thought we had some crazy addresses back in Hyderabad like 6/3/596/32-12B but 222 ½!!?? (BTW, I later on found out that this is an anomaly – and have not come across this sort of fractional addresses anywhere else in the US.
With my friends (L-R) Ganesh, Nagesh, and Ravi (far right) outside 222 1/2 E. Washington Ave. where I lived in Iowa City
While walking around the throngs of students, in one of the plazas across from a Baskin Robbins, we ran into a group of Indian students. Based on their clothing and mannerisms – we could tell that they were not FOBs like us, but were seasoned veterans of at least a semester or two. We approached them to inquire about Nirmal. In that group of five, I could immediately recognize one of my classmates from 6th grade (in Kendriya Vidyalaya Golkonda, Hyderabad). Wow!! What are the odds that I would run into Suresh in Iowa City in 1983 after he left Hyderabad in 1972 or so!! Even more amazing was the fact that I could identify him after all these years!! Everyone was amazed at the sheer improbability of this reunion! After Suresh and I caught up on twelve years of our differing paths from Hyderabad to Iowa City, we explained to the group that we had just landed in Iowa City and that we were in search of Nirmal’s apartment. Unlike today, Iowa City was still just a small town back then and every Indian knew every other Indian. Of course they knew Nirmal and walked with us the short distance of two blocks to take us to his apartment.
That evening, after completing a full day in the US, I felt rested and relaxed among a group of newly formed circle of friends. There was still long way to go before we moved to our own apartment and got comfortable with the school routine as well as bonding with friends – Indian and non-Indian.
In those early days and months, many strangers and some acquaintances (who became good friends and mentors) helped me with the transition from FOB to a confident desi in a foreign land. I am forever grateful for the support and generosity of Mr. and Mrs. Suri and Nirmal. Others who helped me a great deal in those early months are my friends Sandhya, VenkataRamana, Mukund and Jiji as well as my professors and advisors Dr. Steve Collins and Dr. David Skorton. Thanks to the support and guidance of these individuals, I effortlessly assimilated into American society in general and university life in particular. Also, because of them, I can honestly say that I never felt homesick in the new country even for a moment.
(August 15, 1983) With my friend Kumar (left) in front of a motel in Iowa City where we briefly stayed
Epilogue
AT&T had a monopoly on all phone calls back in 1983. International calls were very expensive (To call India it was – $2.95 for the first minute and $1.95 from the second minute on wards). I did a quick calculation of how many rupees would be depleted from my minuscule bank account, if I made a call to inform my parents that I arrived safely. So instead of calling, I just wrote them a nice long letter about all the details of my journey and all the wonderful people I met that made me feel comfortable in my newly adopted country. That letter reached my parents in Hyderabad after 3 weeks!! For these three weeks my poor family had no idea what happened to their son, who had the grand sendoff at Begumpet Airport!! In today’s world of Skype, Facetime, email, SMS, and international phone calls for 1 cent/minute etc. – this is totally unimaginable. Right now, I am looking forward to the next 25-30 years—By then we will have equally unimaginable changes that will make Skype, Facetime etc. seem like Stone Age tools!!
. A couple more dead ones were stuck there for a few more weeks, till I could devise clever McGyverish techniques to pull them out! Meanwhile, the mama bird was relentless, and it kept trying to come in and start another family, till I sealed the outside flap with a makeshift mesh and put an end to its ambitions.
