The Diary

Riiinnngg…riiinnngg…

Hello Priya…you reached safely…

Yes, Baba. It was a long but comfortable flight. The weather here at Chicago suddenly feels very cold especially after being in Nagpur for a fortnight. We are in the car now. How are you doing?

Arrey, I just returned from the fish market and have got some good bombil fish and fresh coriander. I will ask your mother to fry the fish and make some vadi. We will eat it while doing our daily binge watching. It will be the Sunday-Funday for us today.

Baba…

What? You want to speak to Aayi… oh she must have gone for her bath. When I came back from the market, I rang the bell a couple of times but she did not open. Fortunately, I was carrying the spare keys with me and entered the house. I still have the shopping bag in my hands. She is taking long today; otherwise she is in and out in no time. I will ask her to give you a call as soon as she is ready.

The line on the other end went quiet and then there was the faintest of noise…

Priya… why are you crying beta… what happened? You are my brave girl. How much longer could you have stayed. After all, you have your family there in Chicago. Don’t worry baby…. Come on, cheer up.

Baba…are you right now in the living room.

Yes…why?

Please go to the TV room after keeping your bag in the kitchen. I am holding the line here…

The old man took out the fish and vegetables from the bag and put them on the kitchen table top and then walked to the room inside with his phone in his right hand, holding it close to his right ear.

Yes, baby, I am there now…why are you crying darling… I just do not understand why you are making me walk around the house.

Now sit down on the couch facing the wall with the television set and tell me what do you see…

The man saw the black screen of the television and just next to it he saw a large picture frame with a sandalwood garland. He kept staring at the picture of a smiling woman as his eyes moistened.

I am sorry Baba… it’s just been less than two weeks and I can understand how you feel….said the sobbing voice on the other side.

The old man kept staring at the picture, with the phone still glued to his ear, without uttering a single word. Then after a while, spoke…

Don’t worry, baby. I will be fine. It takes time to realise that she is no more. After all we were together for over forty years and you think, work and plan your days as your partner for life. A short lapse of memory, you may call it.

Baba.. just think it over what I said before leaving India… please come and live with us. We will be all so happy to have you with us especially your grand-daughter who keeps asking for more and more bed-time stories that you told her every night we were there last time.

With all friends, relatives and you around till yesterday, the house was full and there was something always going on. My mind was always working on what to do to ensure the ceremonies went off properly, plus with my darlings around, I never felt alone. Today, possibly, is the first day when there is no one at home and my mind wandered away and I forgot the reality and the sad truth.

Come over Baba, please.

No, Priya. Your mother and I built this house together. It was never easy for us and there are great memories associated with it. The name plate with our names Dr. Sumitra and Dr. Arvind Deshpande will always tell me that she is around for me…. every brick in this house is engrained with the history of our struggles, our pains, our victories and our joys. With a clinic full of patients and all the friends in the neighbourhood, I will never be alone here. These people have always been my extended family. Your mother was far too independent a person to seek help from anyone, be it even family and, over the years, that spirit has rubbed off on to me. As long as my hands and feet are mobile and my mind is active, I wish to be here. A new world, new people and new way of living at this age will not suit me. I know you will be worried about me, especially after today’s incident, but I promise to make a long video call every day and keep you informed at all times. And, of course, not hide anything from you even though I know that you will always worry about me, something you have inherited from you mother.

I know Baba. Please keep someone for cooking.

Hey baby, I am a good cook myself and you know it. Your Aayi never allowed anyone inside the kitchen, for it was hers and hers alone…sanctum sanctorum. She would cook for everyone and make fresh food everyday without ever complaining. No matter how much work she had at the clinic and how late she would return but she would make the daily food. I was allowed only on Sunday mornings to make breakfast for her and she loved my dishes with eggs and anda-Maggi was her favourite. But then in the last few years, when she went over to your place in Chicago, she gave me the easy cooking recipes over phone and I would experiment the same. Initially the dishes did not turn out good, but with every passing day, I kept improving and then from simple khichadi I graduated to cooking prawn curry and keema-mattar. I used to keep some portions of my specially cooked dishes for her to taste on the day she returned home and her smile would give me the Michelin Star…mast bana hai. This time when she returned two months ago. she said… now I can say with confidence that you will survive after I vanish…. Yes, darling I will survive.

But Baba, how will you cook all those other things now with no one to give you directions?

Don’t worry, Darling. Your mother was always very meticulous and knew what a bhullakkad your dad is. She knew that I had to be repeatedly told of the way each dish had to be cooked each time I cooked it. So, she started writing these recipes in a diary… her Blue Diary which I have with me. The beauty about her recipes is that she made them idiot proof…they are so easy and simple that I can follow them and the end results are usually very good. Sometimes the salt tastes more and sometimes it appears to be missing, but other than that, I know that I can manage and I can survive. Moreover, cooking for myself every day, will keep me busy apart from my other habits of reading, walking and meeting friends.

Will you make a copy of the Blue Diary for me and send it over please Baba? She tried in vain over the years to get me into the kitchen but I was always very reluctant and, apart from baking cakes and some special dishes, I was more comfortable with the scalpel doing live surgeries than using the kadhai and spoon on dead meat and fish for them to come alive on the dinner plate.

Ha ha… of course I will do it. My only concern is that I never remember birthdays and the special days apart from hers, yours and my own. Your mother was like the finely tuned Swiss watch that ensured the phone calls and messages to family and friends on such days. And then there were those other dates I always tend to forget…days when the fixed deposits would mature, filing of tax, health and home insurance premiums, license renewal… the list was long, but she never missed one date. I will try and sit down on one of the days to compile them properly but am sure I will goof up now and then.

My bhullakkad Baba… don’t you worry. Aayi knew you well and she had given me a small diary… a Red Diary in which all important dates are chronologically hand written. It also contains when to give Diwali bonus to house staff and how much to increase annually. Incidentally, she has one half of the diary devoted to my dates, special numbers and passwords to remember.

Please make a copy and send it to me.

No, that will remain with me Baba. I will remind you of these days and occasions. It will give me one more reason to constantly call you.

Baba, Sumeet was saying that if you were to install CCTVs in the house that we could watch over you from here. We have done it here, as both of us leave Pinky behind with the house help when we go out to work.

No… no means no beta. I do not want surveillance. I seek fresh air of freedom and openness. I want you to live a good life together and not be glued to the screen watching Benjamin Button grow old. And then you never know, some lady may come to my place and then I will have you guys listening to what we are talking and seeing what we are doing… ha ha… give me independence and my privacy.

Ha ha… dad how can you talk like that…

Humour will keep me in good health darling. Hey, you must be reaching home now. Give my love and kisses to Pinky and Sumeet. There is just one problem which I foresee today…

What is it, Baba?

I have never cooked bombil or made kotmir vade before and so the Blue Diary will not have the recipe for these two things…Checkmate…Queen’s Gambit indeed!

I am the last person to tell you these recipes… just do a deep fry of the Bombay Duck and see to it that it stays crisp. Sprinkle some flour before dipping it in the oil. And as far as the coriander leaves are concerned, just give them to Shanti who will be coming to clean the house. Tell her you got some extra.

That’s good…from today you are Aayi of the house…Aayi to Pinky and me as well. Take care Darling.

Bye Baba.

SS

Karma Conversation

KC is the highest form of AI where two or more people converse without uttering a single word that we mortals generally use to interact. Magnetic vibes get transmitted which then get converted to the language understood by the giver and the receiver.

I wish to meet Brother Steve.

May I know why? You do not seem like one of his old students who keep visiting him now and then.

The man pulled out a letter and handed it to the manager at the old age home for Christian Brotherhood at Goa. The manager opened the letter and his eyes lit up….

I am sorry Father for I did not recognize you.

The man went down on his knees and bent his head till it touched the floor.

I had never seen the Papal seal before today, I am blessed.  But I must tell you that Brother Steve is completely bed-ridden for almost a year now. He is on round- the- clock life-support systems and he just lies on his bed without speaking a word to anyone. He is fed through the tubes and, possibly, only his heart is pumping. All the other systems have given way, but strangely he has a smile on his face despite all the pain and suffering he is enduring.

It is all God’s will. I would like to be left alone when I meet him today.

Sure, Father. I will take you to his room and then stand guard outside to ensure no one disturbs or intrudes whilst you are inside.

The priest, enters the room and the manager closes the door from behind. It is a dark room with curtains drawn on the windows. A solitary man lies on the cot with machines, big and small, connected to his vital organs. As Father draws closer, he sees the numerous tubes coming out of the patient’s throat, mouth and underbelly. The eyes are shut but as the man had said before, there is a smile on the face. Father steps next to the bed and gently puts his right hand on sleeping Steve’s forehead and softly utters…

Son, I have come for you.

Steve’s eyes open up and he tries to communicate with movements of his eyelids, brows and eyes…

Thank you, Father, for coming but I have been long gone. What have you come to take now?

I agree, Steve, but now I come to take what remains of you.

But I am not ready to go now. I need some more time, Father.

Why would you want to be like this for even one moment longer? I come to relieve you of your pain and misery.

No, Father. I have been in this state for far too long and have accepted this as part of my fate and penance. I still have my old students and well-wishers coming to see me here. I can see love in their eyes even though I stay on the bed, motionless and speechless. I am fine here in this state for, if you really wanted me, you would have come much earlier. Why now?

The time for all is set and cannot be changed. You lived your good days and not so good ones here and then depart for the next life.

No Father, let me be here longer. And if you really want me to come, then you must answer to my one question that have troubled me since the time I came here to live and also grant me one last wish.

Go ahead, Steve. I will try and answer your eternal question as best as I can.

The smile on Steve’s face grew bigger and there was a new-found light in his eyes. And then he started communicating once more…

Tell me, Father, did I lead a good life, life as laid out in scriptures.

Yes, you did and you were fortunate to have been born in a good family and led a life better than many for the first twenty years.

Yes, Father. I was indeed fortunate that my father who was a senior military man and my mother was a teacher in a school. They brought me up well with all love and care. I was never denied what people call a good life. But then, I decided to join the order at an age and time when young men and women of my time lived a life of fun and gaiety.  I lived those years cloistered in a church with no attachment to the world. I voluntarily gave up my good life to follow the path of the Lord and I did it without any dereliction.

Of course, you did it, son.

For the next thirty years or so, I devoted myself to the cause of educating children. I went beyond the call of duty of a school teacher and sat down with children who needed more time and attention. Today so many of my students have done so well in life. I even taught children of the weaker section of society to learn the life crafts and find a way to earn their living. I pulled them out of drugs and abuse and showed them a better path and many of them now lead a healthy life and have families of their own. They, too, come down here to visit me once in a while.

So, what is your question, Steve. All this life story of yours is known to me and it is recorded for posterity. We know how good a person you have been and how you have helped the meek, the sick and the needy and given a new life to a huge mass of children.

Did I cheat on anyone? Did I live a life of luxury? Smoking a couple of packets of cigarettes was the only vice or luxury you may put against my name. Then why me, Father…why did I have to endure this phase of life… what did I do to deserve this?

I do not have an answer to this question of yours. All I can say is that the Good Lord tests us in many ways. Some of it, we understand and the rest we do not. I have personally seen your book of life and can say with complete certainty that there is not one iota of a black spot anywhere. Your life is an example for many generations to come, especially how you guided young minds to develop love for education, the way you ensured your presence on the playgrounds when they took to the fields, you created some of the most memorable musicals with the children…. to each one of them, you are the first and, the last image that they recount when they hear the word teacher, the word life changer and the word guide. Then there are the innumerable young men that you helped fight drug menace and showed them the path to change and vocational employment. I could go on but now the time has come for me to take you to God’s own land, hand you unto his sacred arms and shower you with infinite love.

The smile on Brother Steve’s face grew smaller and with sadness in his eyes, he said…..Forgive me, Father, for having staggered from my belief momentarily. My faith in Him is as firm as ever and what I asked you was something my evil human mind had been seeking answer to, as I lie here alone. I have no sadness or anger in my heart for surely it is His way of testing me and cleansing me.

As I said before, His ways are not always easy to understand and the paths to His bosom are many.

Father, I seek from thee one last wish.

Yes son, tell me about it.

Father, the love that people are showing towards me even now, makes me long to stay here for a little more but I do not seek to be here forever. When I started my life as a teacher, there was this one class of ’80 where it all started and that one phase holds a special place in my heart. They all have loved me the most and they remember me often in their prayers. The pain that I endure is something small as compared to the respect and pure love that I see in their gentle footsteps as they walk into the room, place fresh flowers in the vase and silently stand and keep looking at me. Some have tears in their eyes and go down on their knees. I wonder if I will find this love in the Garden of Eden you plan to take me to….. . Some of them have come already and met me here. A few more are left to come. I am sure they, too, will be here soon. When the last of them have come and left, you can come for me and I shall gladly accompany you.

SS

Something Fishy

Haseena and Hilsa are the two trouble spots in India’s relationship with our neighbour on the eastern part of the country. While I am sure the EAM will manage the first problem sooner than later, for us Bongs, the Hilsa is the bigger ‘bone’ of contention. Bangladesh has refused to continue with the export of thousands of tons of hilsa or ilish from Padma river during the pre-Durga Puja period. What is so special about this fish? No one other than a Bong will know. It is not just a fish…. bringing home this silver scaled fish is an emotion…. preparing in mustard paste is sheer euphoria…eating this shiny-eyed fish  with its infinite fine bristling bones is nostalgia and much more. 

Sharing a funny take on this Piscean Royalty written in Bonglish script almost a decade ago. 

EESH PHISH EELISH 

I am a proud Bangali Bhadralok

Brought up in rightful tradition
Of admiring Robi Thakur, Netaji and Phootball
We may have our differences of red and blue colours
But one thing we Bengalis are united
Is our laabh (love) for Phish
When Mohun Bagan wins
We eat chingri (prawns)
When East Bengal wins
It is eelish (hilsa) time in Bengali homes.
Phish makes us Bengalis bhery intelligent
So we believe.

It was a Big Day
My laabhing Phaadaar & Maadaar- in-laws were coming
Ginni (Bengali for housewife) said get maachh
Not just any maachh
But Eelish, King of Phish
Get fresh good eelish
Tell your blaady Salauddin
(Salauddin is my fishmonger of old)
If it is not fresh
“Maatha phatiye debo”
In short, will break the fishmonger’s head if not good.

Meekly I took a tholi (bag)
In my Panjabi (kurta) and check- kata lungi
Went to bajaar
Salauddin was waiting
Dada come, come
Good eelish today
When I asked for the price
Babu, why worry
Enjoy phish and pay me later
Don’t pay if not good
This one is from Allahabad
This one’s from Howrah
And this speshaal is from Bangladesh
When I asked the price of the last one
Wished Salauddin would take EMIs at times.

Anyway took the full eelish home
Gave it to Ginni
Who stared at it
Flicked the gill to check
mmm…looks alright
As she washed the phish
I gave her a two-rupee coin
She started removing the scales
I wonder why she can’t use
The same two-rupee coin
To scrub herself clean
Instead she goes to Femina Beauty Parlaar
And when she returns
She stands like model before me
And asks, how do I look
I find no difference in her
Between the look before and after parlaar
But have to say like phamous inglish singer
“Darling you look wonderful tonight”

Ginni then took out her bothi
Bothi is like a machete
With a wooden base
She sat down
Pulled up her saree…
No you blaady idiots, stop imagining!
Only a little bit up
Just up to her knee level
And began to cut the phish
While I stood behind a curtain
Like a little boy
Waiting for the ekjam rejaalt to come out.
One strong stroke…swoosh
And the head gave way
She smiled as she saw the blood
Passed with distinction… said to myself
But seeing her with the head of phish
Remembered Ma Kali
She too stands with heads all over
With a khadga (curved sword) in hand
And chopped heads all over her
This is my modern interpretation
Apologies to sentiments of others
Who may have heard otherwise
That’s Banglar Ginni
And you all thought
Bengali women were always dancing
Like Madhuri with lal alta on feet
Swinging and singing dola re dola re dola

Nothing of the eelish maachh is wasted
Tel or fish oil is a delicacy
Fry it and yum… it tastes labhly with bhaat.
With its head you cannot make muri ghonto
(Please do not pronounce ghanta
Speak with marble in mouth
And you get correct way to speak Bengali)
You can however make chhachra
Which is cooked with pui saag.
Then there is egg (roe) of the phish
From which you make the tastiest pakoras
Better than the best caviar.
Then with the peti
The triangular cut belly
You make eelish fry.
Put eelish in mastard oil
Bengalis like it best in this oil
The smell, the flavor, the crunchiness
Ask any Bengali
He will tell mastard oil is good for heart
Best for putting on your skin in winter
Go east, go west
Mastard oil is the best.

With the rest you can do many a thing

Make simple jhol
Made in nigella seeds and egg plants
Then there is shorshe eelish
This one is speshal
Made with mastard paste
The fish tastes heavenly
But it is not for the weak hearted
For it has a tang and taste which is unique.
Finally, you could make the most special dish
Eelish maachher paaturi
Which is phish wrapped in banana leaves, then steamed
Baat remembhar never eat phish with both hands
Bhery non Bengali like
Use only one hand
Lots of kaanta(bones) in eelish
No Bengali except possibly an Air Marshall
Has ever died singing
Kaanta laga…hai laga…kyon laga
Kaanta laga.

You may say Life is a Jhol, Maacher Jhol but honestly Ginni makes it taste wonderful, she is Bhery Good…upon God I say. Not joking, you know.

SS

Picture courtesy: Internet

Bom Bahai Dairies 5: The Red Alert

Vicky, I think the city needs your urgent help. I got a message from the Police Commissioner of Mumbai who is a very worried man for yesterday he had received a message, on a burner phone delivered at his office, from someone who called himself, The Joker. He is threatening to detonate a big bomb in the city. The threatening message shared by the commissioner on social media read...

On the night when the super moon is red
People have all gone to bed
I shall strike the city of dreams
Bringing it down to its knees
Will give four cryptic clues
Where lies the big bomb fuse
Solve them one by one
And once thou shalt be done
The city will be saved
Or else completely razed. 

The commissioner is now panicking for tonight is the super moon night and unless someone solves the four riddles in the next couple of hours, Bom Hai will no longer be a safe harbour anymore. He has shared his direct phone number and wants the citizens to join the hunt to unravel the clues.

But Sir, how do you think I can help.

Vicky, we all know you have a very high IQ and you’re a part of MENSA Society plus you are extremely good with riddles. Why don’t you try and decipher the messages of this mad Joker? I will join you on this night expedition to different parts of this magnificent city.

Ok Sir. Anything for you and the city.

Great…. The first SMS message on the phone reads….

Riches lie in its treasury
With holes, leakages one too many
Triumphant stands the man in robe
With shimmering red, blue, green lights, one too many. 

Vicky, I think this must be the Reserve Bank Building…..riches in its treasury but the rest of the lines do not match.

Sir, I think I know the place being referred to…. It is the BMC building. BMC happens to be the richest corporation and the word holes refers to potholes on the roads and leakages are the wastage of money by you know who. Sir Pherozeshah Mehta in black robe stands at the entrance of the building which is illuminated with multiple coloured lights. Tell the commissioner to send the answer to the sender and then wait for the next clue.

Ring..ring.. Yes, Sir. Oh thank you Sir. So, my colleague Vicky was right. Yes, I will convey your compliments to him. And you have now got the next set of clue…

Once she was up in flames
Now embers fly at her backyard
With music playing to her right
Waves kissing the majestic gate soft and hard.

Vicky, I feel the Joker is talking about one of the Agiary or Parsi fire temples near the Marine Drive.

No Sir. Just read the lines again… waves kissing the majestic gates. It must be the Gateway for there is no gate on the Marine Drive. Next to it is the Taj Mahal Hotel, which was once up in flames in the deadly 26/11 terrorist attack in 2008. And to the right of the Taj is the Radio Club where music plays and I am not sure about the embers flying the backyard…

Vicky, it must be Bade Mian at the backyards of the hotel and that’s where the embers fly while the barbeque is done in the open.

That is wonderful Sir. Let us go there and enjoy an egg-chicken roll while we wait for the commissioner to tell us if we are on the right track as well as the next clue.

Ring..ring….Yes Sir. Thank you Sir… this time it was a joint effort. What… he has not sent any more clues…the message reads… the seeker shall find the next set of clues…

Vicky was munching the delicious roll and as he tore off the wrapper to devour the meaty roti, his eyes popped up… he saw on the inside of the wrapper, a message which was by now oily and blurred but we were able to decipher it after getting the torn pieces of paper together like a jigsaw puzzle.

More people seeking justice have been shot
On her famed steps, high and wide
More history lies in the coffins within

Than told in halls near the tower of light.

Vicky, this one is easy. Justice has to be associated with the High Court and then there is the big Rajabai Clock Tower at the adjoining University as well. Let us go a find the last clue there.

Sir, wait. Do you think the Joker would give away such easy and direct clues? Anyone could have deciphered this one. I am sure the mad man has some other place. Let me read the clue once again…hmmmm… No one is shot at the High Court and where is the history over there? Bingo…got it! Tell me, Sir, which place do you see in Hindi movies as the usual court house where lawyers walk up and down and the stairs are high and wide…where do you think the film shootings would have happened? And more old historical books are stored here than the University library near the Rajabai Clock Tower….

The Asiatic Library?

Yes, Sir. You are right. Let us take a Best bus to go there to find the last clue. Meanwhile, tell the commissioner about our success.

Yes Sir…Vicky did it again… now just one riddle remains….Yes Sir, we will do our best to find it and decode the message before midnight….thank you, Sir.

We boarded the Best double decker bus and went to the conductor to buy the tickets. The man smiled at us and handed two tickets and said someone had already paid for us and then had got off. We read the back of the two tickets where the last set of clues were handwritten, two lines apiece.

Watt is what I seek
Where the emperor reins and the empress is lost
Hockey football cricket movies galore
Where the iron grinding comes to a halt. 

This one is tough one Vicky. I am at sea…completely clueless.

Sir, why has the Joker spelt the first word incorrectly or does it have something to do with locomotive…James Watt? The next line makes it even clearer for the new name of the station is Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus where Chatrapati Maharaj, the emperor, has taken the place of Empress Victoria whose statue was removed from the building façade and no one knows where it lies now.

What about the sporting clues below?

Where will you find the Mahindra Hockey, Wankhede Cricket, Cooperage Football stadiums and Eros movie theatre close by….

Churchgate Station… oh yes…that’s it, that’s where the iron wheels of trains on the Western line come to a stop. Hope we have cracked all the riddles correctly and well in time. Let me inform the police commissioner about it… you are a genius, Vicky.

Thank you, Sir.

Ring..ring…yes Sir. Thank you, Sir. So, the danger is over for now…that’s good. What, the Joker has asked us to go to the nearest food joint at Churchgate station? It is our treat from his side…should we accept it? Ok Sir, will go and see if he is around there waiting for us.

Both of us went to the small pastry shop near the Churchgate subway and we were welcomed by the staff there with a big round of applause. We felt quite embarrassed but sat down at a table reserved for us as the cold coffee, sandwiches and puffs were laid before us…. all for free. All this paid by none other than the Joker himself. While enjoying the meal, I saw a picture on the wall and I said…

Vicky…that’s you…Bruce Wayne, the Batman, the only one who can beat the Joker and I am Superman. Wonder who’s that pretty lady in the centre…. yours or mine? 

Sir, let us leave this one mystery unsolved for today…

SS & Vicky