A page from a diary on a reunion

Tale of the 17+1 idiots & Murphy

24^th July 2010 said the date on the calendar. Edward Aloysius Murphy kept whispering in my ear “If things can go wrong, they will”. I didn’t imagine it, he actually did. Why should I be hearing him just now? It was weird. How and why his words become gospel (Laws as people refer to them) is again beyond me. No sooner this question flashed across my mind, the sky clouded and it began to pour. Such was the shower that it not only rained cats and dogs but also cows, buffaloes and asses. Talking about asses I could imagine that even the clothed ones out in the streets of Mumbai would be soaked instantly. The Mumbai rain does come down in copious quantity but never is scary; it’s only after the deluge of 26^th July 2005 that it has attained this aura. Now people are scared to come out when the rains start.

We had a reunion of the batch of 1984 planned at Chembur, Mumbai today and this rain did not augur well towards people attending.  Sure enough as I looked at my screen there was Shivdas Nair online; He who stayed in a sea facing penthouse - the apartment and not the magazine (don’t raise your eyebrows at me while reading this, these are his words in toto). “Kau, look at the rains outside” typed he, “it would be absolutely idiotic to venture out.” He didn’t even stay that far away from the location but that’s Murphy’s Law at work for you. C est la vie. One name scratched out.

When we are driving intent nay sayers don’t have a place in the plan if it is to be executed at all. My thoughts went to the previous night. Shanky and Murugan had arrived early and we had met up. Four of us (Bhaskar, Murugan, Shanky and I) sat together then discussing on what to do the next day. In the name of planning lots of C2H5OH in various forms was imbibed. Then someone voiced what if no one comes in tomorrow? Another voice slurred out loudly…Hum hai na…hum char jun…Venue pe jayenge, bahut dhaandal karenge aur apney aap me hi reunion manayenge. But then in that haze we hadn’t taken into account the absolute enthusiasm of the other people who had confirmed.

Smilingly my thoughts returned to the present. One name had been scratched out. Then came two calls, the first was Vinita from Pune who asked “Is it raining in Mumbai? I am starting now.” The second one was Varsha from Kalyan who just called to ask “Are we on for today am confirming on account of the rain? “ You bet we are on, was my reply and instantly enthusiasm surged back through me. Now I knew that things have started to fall back in place once more.

People had traveled from places as far as Doha (Sujata), Bahrain (Sobha), Singapore (Anjali), Salem (Murugan) and Chennai (Shanky) Tamilnadu and had come in. Pankaj was traveling from Beena in Madhya Pradesh and some were last minute confirmations but each one called up with a resounding YES. The dropouts ironically happened to be the people who stayed in Mumbai. It was a shame. They may have their reasons genuine, fragile, facile or whatever but reasons nevertheless.

At 3.00 in the afternoon Bhaskar and I had reached the venue while Shanky and Murugan who were with us through the morning had gone home to freshen up. The venue was a mid-sized conference room on the second floor at Chembur gymkhana, cleared away for us to have our do. As we waited outside at the smoker’s corner blowing rings we saw the first umbrella come in. It was Tarun & he had hardly changed so we had absolutely no problems in identifying him. For a while it was just the three of us catching up and then along came Neepa and the chatter started.  After then like clockwork at almost five minute intervals people started coming in. Anjali, then Sujata,  Shanky and Murugan . The real prosaic moment was when a few had gathered and Srikant walks in. Not one of us recognized him and we thought it is some gymkhana member who has wandered into the wrong room. Anjali’s reaction was the most comical to observe. She actually looked once at him and turned back to converse with us but the guy was still standing in the room smiling. Till Tarun yelled Chakraaaa and his characteristic laughter confirmed his identity. Chakra became the joker in the pack and for every new person who entered the room it became a game of guess who this is? Another hilarious part was when we had to rescue Sriram from committing hara-kiri in the washbasin. He was trying to drown himself. When asked what happened ‘”He said he was identified as Shivdas by Pankaj”

As the decibel level increased the wonderful part that struck me was despite so many years having passed. None required an ice breaker to smoothly traverse the years and strike a conversation. It was that easy. This was despite the peculiarity of the school etiquette where boys did not speak to girls and vice versa. All verbal communications may have at the most been spats then. Later as some of them had interacted with their opposite gender friendships had bloomed. It was evident though that for a good number present here it was the first real conversation with the opposite gender from the class. That was the irony considering that we had spent not one or two but a good ten or twelve years in one room everyday for five hours at the very least. It was as if a dam had burst and people could not stop catching up. Words and loud laughs, giggles and chatter.

After the confirmations and cancellations had been accounted for seventeen were expected at the venue and Punde the plus one was to join us later in the evening. The last one to come in was the first to have started from her place, the one with the longest journey of the day, Vinita. The rains made her journey miserable but her will won over the adverse conditions. When the quorum was complete the Master Of Ceremonies, Mr. Lakshmi Shankar Balsubranian aka Abishek aka Shanky to us, took the mike. While the others sat he recounted on how this whole jig had begun. The suggestion was made to make 24^th July the Reunion day such that we don’t wait another 25 years to catch up again. The venue could be anywhere but meet we must. The mike passed on to each telling their own story of what had they done from the time after school. Some chirpy memories of school were shared too.

Murugan and the pen that went up Jeetu’s backside and the corny explanation he gave to the Principal Shanbag when questioned about it. Sriram’s runaway marriage as recounted by Anil who was with them all the way in all their trying times to such an effect that he said if this is what Love marriage entails, keep me away. Exciting and happy progress had been made in the lives of all people here. Srikant recounted his blissful state of affairs, His education as an engineer, his working with Hitachi Data Systems, staying in Chembur and the neat family unit he had. Tarun, the banker at ICICI who shared the story of his marriage and how he wished someone from his school had been present then and yours truly not having gone even after an invite; then Hari turning up after getting just a sms which made this very important day absolutely complete for him. Anjali shared her life post school of Management and a job at Kotak and then moving from Dubai to Singapore. Varsha told the group of having done her super specialization in IVF and having delivered the first In vitro baby of Kalyan. Sujata who had a word after everyone’s account when she got the mike talked about her life in Doha and how she was in the process of setting up a business from there. Nalini on how she is managing her company having done shows on all five continents and continuing in the field of music. Vinita, talked about her life in Pune married to an offshore engineer, on being a successful home maker and furthering the progress of both her sons as Chess champions. Sriram, after that shared the work he is doing heading the supply chain at McDonalds in India a responsibility recently undertaken. Anil narrated on how fulfilling his career had been and how amongst many other innovations in the field of construction development, waste management his company was responsible for changing over the fuel tanks in automobiles from metal to plastic. Bhaskar the HR professional talked about his education, his career & life. Sobha who came in with her daughter Jyoti mentioned about her life and not having known about Murugan being in Salem when she was posted there for 3 years. She even referred and pointed out to her sweet daughter as being a Salem product. Pankaj talked about his early career in L&T from which he had moved into piping & fabrication contracting for refineries, his experimenting with farming on a plot actively cultivating vegetables & flowers. Peter talked about how his life shaped up after his BCom and MBA into the travel industry and the responsibility he handles at Cox & Kings. Neepa who had been talking so much was absolutely short of words when the mike was in her hand. She choked and it indeed was a sentimental moment, said she on seeing so many of us all in one room after a while. She has done her Homeopathy and an MBA in hospital administration and is in the process of setting up a company with her surgeon husband in providing hospital services. Then the mike was in my hand and recalled the exercise and all the people who played their part in getting the information together culminating in this do. Hari and Meera were sorely missed as they had a lion’s share in this, Bhaskar who was with me every step of the way while we were getting this act together. Having done my engineering and working for couple of years with Godrej manufacturing refrigerators and ten years selling engineering solutions moving on to advertising. Then the mike was back with Shanky who recounted his progress after a struggle in the entertainment field. Of having tasted critical acclaim 

to becoming a soap star to directing his full length feature film and then receiving the states honors’.

It was a moment of recounting and then we wanted the singers to sing and Shanky started with a tribute to Kishore Kumar when he sang “Koi Hum Dum Na Raha” …Nalini sang “Waqt ne Kiya” and truly the sorry mike system didn’t do justice to her voice that still retains a poignant quality…but the performance of the day was Anil’s. When he sang “Geet Gaata hu main” the years rolled back as he hummed along. Anil barring some grey at the temples and sides and trousers that were longer looked just the same as he did when in school.

Soon it was time to break off and leave the venue, some of us to reconvene elsewhere. Rains or delays one thing was absolutely crystal “The 17+1 Idiots had beaten Murphy”. Aaaall Eeeej Well.

Knocking On Heavens Door: Adios Pappa

Pappa or Bhalchandra Govind Mavalankar was my father-in-law, my wife Gauri’s father; a complete study in contrasting extremes. An architect by qualification but a marketing man by vocation. He was intelligent and naïve, very vocal or moodily silent, opinionated or obtuse, very sensitive to feelings but abrasive in conduct with people whom he didn’t respect. A voracious reader who loved classical music, good food & films, you could either like him or hate him but never ignore him. He had a totally quirky sense of humor and a phenomenal memory which made him a raconteur par excellence. When he would narrate a story, one would listen spellbound at his ability to make you feel the emotional spark in it or have you in splits with his sensational timing in tickling the funny bone. He could quote an old Sanskrit verse, or a whole passage from a play or book from ages ago effortlessly which would be absolutely apt for the moment or analyze a rendition of a classical raga in its minutest detail. There was nothing superficial about him & when he wanted to know something he would refer all to get to the bottom of it. A generous soul he had to compulsively share what he knew or had learnt and proudly wore his heart on his sleeve.Totally transperent in his persona he could at times be called a flake but a fake he was not.

What does one do with a man like this,and how does one deal with him? I wondered after meeting him the first time.One who talks nineteen to a dozen…hmmm.. one just listens and becomes his audience, a pucca guarantee was that you would never be bored. I had my own opinions and in laying those across we had many a good natured argument, you could even call some of them spats if not fights, so vivid and loud they would be. But at the bottom of it while arguing, we connected and both of us sensed it and respected the other for it.

All of the decade since I knew him, our interactions were on a sublime level. He was a charming rogue and knew it. His passion apart from the two women in his life (my ma-in law and his daughter-my wife) was his idol the music maestro Pandit Jasraj. These three could do no wrong in his eyes.He loved his smokes and liked the liquid spirits too at one point in his life. The spirits had been given up a few years ago, but this kind of an indulgence especially when one has diabetes, had to take a toll and it did. Luckily though for him, the painful part of the last leg of his journey was not greatly prolonged. The lifestyle and diabetes opened the door to a terminal anomaly which was diagnosed as Portal Vein Thrombosis; a condition which restricts the blood flow to the liver.From the time it was detected he was living on borrowed time. It was as if his one way ticket to the other world was reserved and booked, only the schedule of the train to take him there had not been declared just yet.

On 15th Jan at 11.30 pm that too happened and like the corny Hindi film’s (the ones which both of us would love to take potshots at) he passed away on my lap in the hospital. Does life imitate art or vice-versa, I wouldn’t know but that’s exactly how it played out. It was my turn at the hospital in the night and my ma-in law was next to me reading holy verses in prayer. As he faced slight difficulty breathing, I was patting his back sitting on his bed and his head rolled on to my lap. The spark which is called life, the beat of it felt by my palm on his naked back just stopped and went out. That one moment shall be with me always; his eyes opened once connected with mine and a lot passed across in that one look. It may take me a while to figure all that he may have wanted to say but it was like he had handed over the baton to me. In that moment it hit with crystal clarity the awesome responsibility the spirit leaves you with and that you are chosen to be entrusted with it is in fact a privilege.

Later,the same night after his brothers and sisters had reached his home in Dombivali from Pune, we committed his mortal remains to the pyre. Lighting the pyre my vision had blurred as his life flashed before me (his ten years with me). He would leave a void that may be hard to fill. But he shall live in the memories always. This was evident from the number of people who dropped in to pay their respect in the first two days and many who have conveyed their condolences and are on their way. All the people in whose life he had stepped in, some briefly & some at length, to share space and enrich it with his boisterous personality.

For the immediate family and friends there shall be rich memories and as we move on, we shall cherish those times he made special just by being there. Where would he be now, probably knocking on heaven’s door where else? Engaging St.Peter at the gates of heaven in a wild yarn or a joke and laughing uproariously while smoothly enquiring almost as an afterthought…Does this place have a smoking section?

The ties that bind … Goodbye Uncle

13th December 2008. I receive a call at around 8.00 am from my classmate Nalin that Pradeep’s dad who was hospitalized for now over two months is no more. The first reaction is surprise followed by numbness and then regret. The rites are at 10.30 -11.00 am at Mahim at Deepak’s, his elder brother’s home and then it was off to Shivaji Park.

From Mulund which is around 25 km’s away, as I started on my two-wheeler all my thoughts were on Pradeep. He is settled in the USA now with his wife Ameetha, Son Taran and Dog Samba. None of them could be here at this point. He had been here last month when Uncle was first diagnosed ill and the recovery took its own time and we got to speak then, not meet. Nalin had met Uncle in the hospital during the time he had stabilized. He recounts that Uncle was mighty happy that his life had been made complete by his two sons who had settled well in their life and their families there on. After a long battle with his ailment he made his peace & moved into the next world.

In such cases my heart always goes out to the people he left behind; his wife and partner of more than four decades, his sons, daughters in law and the grandchildren. On all of them his mark was left in some measure. Deepak the elder son was performing the rites as Nalin, Mohnish and I watched along with many friends and relatives who had gathered to pay their respects. The hurt in the eyes of Deepak was palpable in the stiffly held shoulders, he who had to be the strength here, while some part of him wanted to break down himself. Aunty was crying and the softly sniffling sounds of grief from a lady who till now always was high decibel were painful.

My memories of Pradeep’s dad are sketchy. He always was the stern faced, gruff man who would sit in the balcony of their house in Gloria society. The demeanor though stern was only that, until one looked into his eyes which had pure mischief. He would sneak in a one liner which would be so funny that it would have us in splits. My pal gets his comic timing from his dad for sure. The house would be full and noisy all the time and not with one word were people made to feel that it is a trouble. It was an open house and a very very warm household. Aunty would make this yummy fish curries and the smells of cooking and domesticity would abound. In the speed of achievement and establishment of selves, the trips to that home had stopped and meetings by themselves became occasional. Pradeep went to the USA and it became even more difficult. Then Deepak moved to Mahim. Surprisingly the environs is quite similar to Gloria society at Mulund, was my impression today.

Deepak broke down when the last mortal remains were assigned to the flames, in the arms of a friend, though he quickly composed himself. All of us were there for Pradeep and share his loss. The call of the career puts people in geographies so distant that it is gut wrenching to see when a stark reality like this prevents their being here in person. Pradeep would say goodbye to his Dad in his own way, maybe he already did. I pen this on behalf of all us guys here in Mumbai and there in the USA who would be feeling no different. These are the ties that bind us…the ties shall remain always as we say..Goodbye Uncle.

Cheer & Cutting Chai

His smile was huge and warm beneath his moustache. Sparkling white teeth were flashed as he greeted everybody who passed by with a huge “Jai Shri Krishna”. Narayan Chauhan was his name. He was our friendly neighborhood chai wallah (Tea vendor). His outfit was a box of 3 feet by 3 feet on which blazed away a huge pot of tea. No purist though would ever call what he dished out as tea. His brew was strong, sometimes over sweet and spiced up with ginger crushed in a small pestle that he kept.

A large slate, with dirt & grime and tea marks of many years embedded in its frame, hung over the wall, which bordered one end of his shop. On it was scribbled a rough menu. Full- Rs.6/- , Cutting Chai – Rs.3 , Coffee- Rs.8 , Ukala – Rs.8 and many other concoctions like gulabi ( pink ) that have now become common street parlance in Mumbai. Standardization is not the name of the game here ever. When one went in the morning, the leaves would be relatively new & the tea tasted different from the one you ordered around 10-11am. By then leaves would be cooked beyond their normal life and ginger and spices would add to the flavor. “Ek peshal bina shakkar” Narayan shouted and an old taxi driver came over to claim his glass. "Kaisan ho Narayanwa.. Sub Kushal mangal?"(How are you Narayan and how is everything he asked). The trademark smile flashed and he said "Maalik ki krupa se sub kuch theek hi hai "(God looks after all of us and takes care of everything). This stock answer cheerfully conveyed an implicit faith in the maker.

I would stop at his stall two or three times in a day, for a break. It was the warmth & cheer that he brought to surrounding that kept me going, as I am sure was true of most of the others there. It was an eclectic customer base from all classes. Traders from nearby shops whom he kept supplied all day long with his brother carrying the tea in mini steel containers and glasses, taxi and rickshaw drivers, municipal workers and government employees from nearby offices formed his regular custom. They came along, he chatted and they went away with smiles. Those fortunate to get good tea too would return and later the memory of that tea would sustain their trade with Narayan.

As long as I stayed in Chembur his face had been a fixture. Once on a lighter day when the city was closed on account of some political burn-out, I had stopped by. He was there smiling boiling his brew for which there were few takers today. Shops had closed in fear, Municipal workers were on strike and the rickshaw taxis were not plying. He was in his shorts and beige shirt spotlessly clean and asked me “Kya saab aaj bhi kaam?” (Are you working even today? ) When I mentioned that yes, he told me that you newspaper guys are like me. We are needed by everyone, both of us collect and relay news only you get to publish it and laughed at his own joke. I was curious and asked him the secret of his cheerful self. I envied him, I asked him doesn’t he ever worry?

He looked at me solemnly stopping his laugh and told me his thought. He told me “I came to Mumbai city 36 years ago and all I did then was work at a tea stall as a helper washing glasses. My ambition was to have my own tea stall. God looks after everybody and he is great. He helped me achieve my ambition, so I help him achieve his, which is to make the world a happier place. But even he gets tired and I asked myself how do I help him while he rests and recharges his battery. Because when God rests, the suffering in the world increases. I am not a doctor, engineer or an actor that I can heal, mend or entertain people. I am not educated in the words of any book. Angootha chhaap hoon saab, pur apne Bhagwan pe bharosa hai. To mainey thaan li ki khush rahoonga aur doosre ko khush karunga. Khudaa ka hi kaam hai (Am illiterate but I trust my God, so I decided to remain happy and keep others happy. After all that’s Gods work too). When I started doing this I realized that no problem ever bothered me. What I could solve, I did and what I could not I left it to him, he said looking upwards. Takleef ko Takleef ka naam jub aadmi deta hai, tub usey dard hota hai. Main to haskar jo sahi hai who karta hoon, to jub mushkiley aati bhi hai, to who apney aap hi alag mod lekar mujhse door jaati hai. (When people label their troubles as troubles then they have problems, I laugh it off and do what is to be done and trouble takes a turn away from me).

It was such a simple and amazing philosophy. Reflecting on this I realized, it is so true when it is said that laugh and the world laughs with you. One should only observe Narayan in action to see this philosophy practiced to perfection.People flock to him to absorb the happiness he emits more than the chai that he constantly keeps brewing. With Narayan what you get served is one cutting chai and one full glass of cheer.