Adda

 

This was in 1995 or so in TCS. I was heading the Engineering Services Group and our operations in India were in many places like Bombay, Delhi, Bangalore, Calcutta etc. We had a young and energetic Bengali working out of Calcutta . I wanted him to shift to Bombay as there was urgent work in Bombay and projects were scarce in Calcutta. He was reluctant. When I went to Calcutta I tried to reason with him but was not succeeding.

 

In the evening we went out for dinner and on the way I think I picked him up. A few meters from his house he pointed out a small circle . There was  a tree at a side with a round bench where people could sit. He said that is where he and his friends met almost everyday in the evening.

 

‘ We chit chat discussing, debating, arguing about politics, religion, movies , music and what not. Over Chai and smoking cigarettes. If I come to Bombay where will I find this ‘ Adda ‘ , he asked.

 

I gasped. He had a point. Life may lose a bit of charm away from here.

 

Now sitting at home due to Covid I definitely and more wholeheartedly agree with him.

 

 

Colonial Man

 

 

Probably in 1995 when I was in TCS. I had gone to London to meet one of our clients in Woking,  a few kms outside London. I spent three or four days there. TCS was not paying generously for Hotels so I stayed in a place called ‘ Little Holland ‘ , a home owned by an aged British couple. I was a paying guest.

 

The man ( I will call him John as I have forgotten his name ) was in his 70s and his wife perhaps a couple years younger or appeared so. Both became friendly. His wife once told me that she goes to Harrods once a year. I asked if it was not an expensive shopping place. She smiled and told me that once a year there would be discount days around Christmas. She would go around but really not buy anything expensive. At the end she would sit down and have tea.  Tea served in beautiful porcelain cups. She appeared so content reminiscing.

 

Now to the ‘man of the house’. John had gone to India ( Bombay ) during Raj days. Had some vague memories. ‘ Those were the days ‘ , he felt. He said that nowadays a lot of immigrants descend on Britain and life has become increasingly difficult for them ( Britishers ). I smiled and told him that they came and colonised us and had a gala time for two or more centuries, Now it is our turn. To my surprise he was not upset with me.

 

He told me in confidence that his son, a sales person,was trying to sell a European car to him. 

He said ,’ but I know better. I will always go for Japanese cars. They are efficient and economical . My son gets good commission selling European cars , But I won't fall for his sleek talk. ‘ The irony of Japanese dominance escaped him.

 

Later that day I met his son when I was chatting with his father. He asked me how I could tolerate him . He is such a bore he said.

 

After dinner John told me that he talks to Him everyday. I was confused.  ‘ With whom’,  I asked. ‘ God ’,  he replied without hesitation.

 

I was to leave the next day early in the morning. I settled the bill with the lady , said GoodBye . I told her that in the morning I would get a cab and quietly leave around 4 305 am .

 

Morning came. I quietly dressed and carried my suitcase down the stairs. To my surprise John was there dressed and waiting. His wife told me that he insisted that he had to drop me to the airport. I protested in vain. He drove me to Heathrow . wished me warmly on a good trip . I am not lying when I say that his voice was choked. 

 

I wondered for a long time ‘ How and Why ‘ of it. All I did was to  listen to him. Did  that bridge the gap of age, culture, race , beliefs !

 

I always recall his kindness.

 

 

 

Sandyavandana on Thames 

 

 

Infosys 1998. We were trying to establish a new Business Unit. We had a very capable Engineer ( earlier worked in L & T ) Mr Gopalan with us. He was an Iyengar tall and well built. He had a ‘ naama ‘ predominantly shining on his forehead. Had a good sense of humour. Hard working. He joked , when I had two accidents driving my car , that they were basically because of my slow driving. He was soft spoken but when he was behind wheels he became a demon. Such speed and recklessness I have not seen. He was a strict, extremely strict , vegetarian , non smoker and teetotaler. He was not willing to eat in the canteen because it also served non vegetarian food. I had a unfounded suspicion that he did not want to eat with non Brahmins too. I can not be sure.

 

I had to send someone to the UK to visit a client and pacify him. Gopalan was an ideal candidate as he had the right background. I called him and told him that he has to go to the UK for a week. He was silent. After some coaxing he said that he does not want to go. I reminded him that in the interview ( while selecting him ) I had specifically said that no one can insist or refuse an assignment abroad wherever it was. He agreed that it was so. Still…

 

I wanted to know why.

‘ I don’t eat outside ‘, he said. I said you could stay with Infosys chaps already there. ‘ They are not vegetarians ‘, he said. I will ask them to forego non vegetarian food for a couple of days. No improvement . He had become serious. Reluctantly he said he had to do ‘ Sandhyavandanam ‘. I said , ‘ what is the problem. Like people pray to Mecca from London , you could do your prayers’.

 

  ‘ Sir you do not understand. How will I recite :

 

 

jambu dweepe, bharata varshe, dandakaranye, godavaryah dakshine teere ……

 

in London ? ‘

 

I was speechless. Still I persisted.  ; Your career may suffer ‘ I said. He replied with equanimity , ‘ It is OK sir ‘.

 

I told him that  I greatly respected  his integrity .

 

He has retained fondness and affection for me. It is mutual.It became clear when I met him a year back. 

 

Temple for an Atheist

 

 

ISRO 1980 or so. I got acquainted with Compounder Satyanarayana as we were boarding the bus at the same stop. He had worked earlier with a famous doctor Ramarao in Chamarajpet. We used to go to Dr Ramarao for consultations . SoI knew him even before ISRO days.  Over many trips to ISAC often I would sit next to him. He would cover his mouth by hand and talk. Many times it would be difficult to make out what he was saying. He became more and more religious and his black ( and later black and white  ) beard and moustache grew wildly. And with his glasses on he was a fearsome sight for the new. 

 

He had inherited some land far away from Bangalore and he gave it away to a trust so that a temple / mutt / ashram could be built. He was a bachelor. He was collecting money for his temple. I gave him a substantial amount ( relatively speaking ) at least compared to others. In the name of my mother. He was very happy and would report the progress almost every day. He had no other interests . So I knew how a philanthropist  had donated money for the ‘ gopuram ‘, how the idol was getting sculpted according to Shastras, how it was blessed by some swamiji etc. I had no heart to tell him my lack of interest. After a few years the temple was complete but by then I had moved out. WhenI came back to Bangalore to join  Infosys he traced me and insisted that I visit the temple. Reluctantly I agreed. We ( my wife and I ) went there and the car journey took more than an hour. He was waiting. He made me remove my shoes , put some cloth around me and made me walk behind him circling the sanctorium several times. I was also holding a large fan  and waving it as he recited ‘ Datta, Datta, Datta ‘. Then we sat down and heard some more about the holy place. He had retired and settled down there. 

 

It was impossible to show any disbelief. In fact he would have laughed it off even if I had tried. His sincerity, honesty and integrity made me shut my mouth.

 

 

Scottish Humour

 

 

We made a trip to Scotland in 2014 or so. We went around Scotland on a bus journey. It was fabulous. In one of the towns we ( the entire group ) stayed in small hotels. Ours was a small one, with  decent , clean rooms. Breakfast was ordinary and I hardly had any other than coffee. I took two bananas with me. The manager / owner came and told me that I am not supposed to take it. It is only Breakfast and you can not take it for dinner, he added. I felt insulted and angry and left. Next day morning we were to leave. We checked out and I asked him for a Guest comments Book. He looked serious but brought it. My wife nudged me not to write. I wrote somewhat similar to this :

 

I have enjoyed Scottish hospitality so far and the trip has been memorable. But here I am exposed to another side of Scotland. The thrifty, in fact, fairly miserly nature of its people and to top it off the rudeness was simply unacceptable. The stay was comfortable but the treatment was bad. Not worth two bananas.

 

The owner was hovering around waiting impatiently. I closed the book and proceeded towards the bus. My wife was already inside and then I saw the man running towards me. I was a little perturbed but was ready for a fight. He came and took my hands and shook it heartily. ‘ Worth two bananas’ ,  he exclaimed and laughed merrily. I like your humour, he said. We departed with smiles.

 

No country for the old

 

 

It was 2012 and Sunnyvale. Mythili was an intern in Cisco and was living in an apartment. We stayed with her. She had no car. Used to take a tram to work. I used to go to a   Costco store - first a walk, then tram, then a bus . Buy something and return. The entire trip would take 2 - 3 hours. While waiting for the bus at Costco I met a woman in her sixties or more also waiting. She had a couple of  bags full of items. We chatted. She told me that she lived a little far and the bus would take approximately 45 minutes to one hour to reach her place. She was alone. I asked her why she could not manage these in the neighbourhood. She looked at me and after a short silence said that she comes all the way because this gives her some excuse to spend some time. It hit me. The curse of loneliness. I instantly felt a bond with her. It is the same everywhere. I was lucky that is all.

I helped her with her bags and wished her well on getting down.

 

 

 

Peace For our generation and after

 

 

I was in ISRO and it was perhaps 1990. There was a Russian ( Soviet ) visit and I was one of the people involved in the discussions.The discussions with my counterpart were rather heated. At one point he ( Ashtoshkin ? ) exclaimed something in Russian. Our translator Tarun Goswamy ( of Integration ) , my friend, was slightly upset and to cover it smiled weakly. Astoshkin was red in the face and got up and went to smoke. At first Goswamy would not tell me anything. After a lot of coaxing he said that the Russian said that  I was either an Academician or a scoundrel. To his surprise I smiled. After a while when I shook hands with Ashtoshkin and smiled his face became red.

 

In the evening there was a party at Barton Court. We had a good time over Vodka. After a few pegs a person , Russian , not in our group,  came to me and said ( he knew English )  that he wanted to talk to me. We went out to the balcony. He said that he was in a military tank for sometime in the war. Perhaps in Afghanistan. He said the only thing he was thinking of was about his family. Our children and grandchildren should live in peace, he said. Wiped a tear. I just hugged him. 

 

A Monk

 

In 2006 I went on a trekking trip . While returning in a junk jeep of world war 2 heritage we met with an accident. The jeep rolled back into the valley. Of the eight passengers one died. A few had injuries. It was extraordinary luck that we survived.

 

Next year I went again this time  alone. I wanted to revisit the place. I wanted to overcome any residual effects of the accident.  I also wanted to stay in Ralang monastery for two or three days. With some influence and luck someone I knew was able to persuade the autorities to let me stay. The stay was fine. I did not go out anywhere and ate and drank ( frugal ) whatever they gave. It was a monastery for training future monks. So many young children were there ( often sent there because of poverty ). I met a monk and chatted with him. In the course of our conversation he told me that he had to go through the last 18 months with no contact with the outside world. He would study, listen and pray or meditate. But no talk whatsoever. Silence. I asked him how he felt. He said that the last few months  were very difficult. The isolation almost drove him to madness. I asked him if it was worth it. He did not answer.