Risk-taking, trust, and serendipity are key ingredients of joy. Without risk, nothing new ever happens. Without trust, fear creeps in. Without serendipity, there are no surprises

This is kind of going to be a long laundry list kind of blog entry. I have just been pushing off talking about my experience in US so far. This is my second stint in the US and a long term one.

I’m in office right now in Atlanta, US. Under terrible jet lag feeling :( Body is paining like hell; don’t know how I’m sitting straight.

People here are quite good enough. Almost all known faces around, barring a few. Met with my manager and talked. As of now we don’t have much work, only need to read a few things, we are awaiting another guy who will be joining the team from New jersey Akshat Arora next week sometime. Only after he joins we will start our training on the processes. So this week we can just take time to settle down and all.

The best thing that happened was the presence of Sunitha's friends. Sunitha is my room mate here. They managed to get us a lovely 2 bedroom apartment. The apartment is really good considering the rooms I had seen in San Diego with sky rocketing prices. The fixed amount that we have to pay for this apartment is 950$ and electric, water and net bills will be separate, which won’t be too much. The apartment is too cool; we have everything in it and no need to go out Like - TV, internet, microwave, washing machine, baking oven, toaster, dishwasher etc. Totally cool considering the rent. Three of us will be staying here - me, Sunitha’s and Manjry. Manjry is a cleanliness freak so the first condition is we must keep the house spic and span. Well hehehe it’s going to be a tough time for a messy person like me. I find Manjry to be a nice person. She talks well. She has a car and a cycle. So she has offered us that we might accompany her on grocery shopping when she goes in her car. That's also cool enough.

Regarding the room. It’s pretty good looking. Last night we were hopping till Wal-Mart guys shooed us away at 12 am  :P. We bought the entire world and our home is almost set. We need to organize things a bit patiently now. The rooms has a through and through soft carpeting, so it’s nice to walk and sit on the floor also. We have 2 bedrooms, numerous closets, a dining cum drawing room with a plush sofa, a chandelier fan, a wide screen LCD :), table, bean bags...cool na. The kitchen has all the things I mentioned above. We also have a quaint little balcony which opens to a winding gray pathway; it’s mostly the back portion of the society yet to explore it. The place is blossoming with violet small flowers. Looks totally amazing. There is a small wooden jhula also amongst the flowers which can be seen from our balcony. By the way we stay on the 2nd floor. Yesterday I almost died while taking my 46 Kg baggage’s up the two floors through the small wooden stairs. That's the reason my hands and shoulders are paining like hell. Even a dose of painkillers were not enough :( Only rest will help me get back to health I guess.



We got almost everything we needed for the home from Wal-Mart last night. Here we don’t take gaddas or beds; we have something known as comforters which are something like a razai. I took a king sized comforter to use as a bedding. I folded it in two and it made a nice comfy bed. Also I got a second comforter, a colorful one for using as a kambal. Along with that two pillow covers came free :). We also got light stand and all. I still have to set up my pooja room :( That was the first thing we had done last time, but yesterday we were so much engaged couldn’t do that.



Today we will be leaving office early, as Sunitha’s friends are still there, and we need to do the rest of the important things. I need to get a connection, the most important thing. Also might be we will have lunch outside. Last night we dined at an Indian restaurant. And we had chicken biryani, chili pakoras and mango lassi. I didn’t have mango lassi, it sounded weird, but tasted ok ok, but I was too tired to eat. The chili pakorasbiryani, chili pakoras and mango lassi. I didn’t have mango lassi, it sounded weird, but tasted ok ok, but I was too tired to eat. The chili pakoras were so hot that only Uday could eat it, me sunita and shirisha just flipped pour top with the first bite of the pakoras. But tell you what the biryani was the most delicious biryani I have ever had in hotels. It was too filling, and two orders of the same were sufficient for 4 of us.


Now regarding the Air France travel. last time the company had asked me about my preference of food, but this time some brilliant mind out there figured out that I would prefer veg food, and on top of that Indian veg food on a French flight.....grrrrrrrrrrrrr.....how I wish I could find that person and strangle him who did this to me. The moment I got into my first AF flight they handed over a meal menu to us and in that were listed many delicious French cuisines. But when it came to serving us Indians they said they said they had veg food for us. Thankfully I asked the air hostess to change mine to a non veg thing and got the French omelets served, it wasn't that good but at least it was different. Same happened while on the next AF flight, there also they were to serve


Same happened while on the next AF flight, there also they were to serve veg meals. I asked for a non veg meal which consisted of a nice chicken and some pasta etc or lasagna. But the guy air hostess politely told me that was only entitled to the 'Indian' veg lunch. I became so sad. And when I opened the lunch box I was even distressed. It looked like a stale veg and paneer preparation from Stone Age. Rice was also there. So I tried mixing all and had the first spoon it was so salty. Somehow I managed to gulp it down. IT was a terrible Indian lunch. And I couldn’t get why the hell they assigned an Indian lunch to me, when I was all set to experiment with French food. While the others feasted on different pastas, chocolate mousses, cheddar cheese muffins and pancakes I was chewing on the tiny naans and stale subzi. Such a bad luck.



The second airfrance flight was a double Decker flight and I was assigned a seat in the upper deck. So after entering the aircraft I was asked to move up through the stairs. Nothing very special it was a normal flight. The only difference is that the seats were much better than air India. They were comfortable, else my poor back would have ended aching more than it already is. Also I had bought one of those U shaped support pillows hence this time my neck got good support and I was able to sleep comfortably. IT was a really good bargain of 380 rupees.

Once in Paris, there was a lot of pandemonium. I only had 2.5hours to catch my connecting flight. Hence there was hardly any time. CDG is a very spread out airport. We had to go from 2C to 2E terminal. For that we had to take a shuttle. IT was an overcast day and was raining. From the flight I could see glimpses of Paris. It had vast pasture lands spread on either side of the road. The pastures were in the shape of rectangles, big rectangles. So once I was in the bus shuttle to go to 2E I thought it would hardly take 3-4 mines. But it almost made a world tour and we finally reached 2 E in almost 15 minutes. I was tired holding my laptop bad, handbag and backpack for so long. :(


Now once in 2E another problem cropped up. There was a specific gate of taking the gate pass and stuff, and to reach to those gates we were supposed to take the train for that particular gate number. Now I was searching for assistance when a chinki girl came to help me. She said I was to go to the southern wing and my gate was 49. She mentioned it at least 5 times. Ok so I moved to the escalator to take my train. Now on the train it was written that it was going to the stations numbered from 21 to 47 and on the other side it was 51 - 76. So there was nothing for 49. I was totally confused. I stood there like a fool in the empty platform. Felt a bit scared also since there was no one there. Then I met an Indian lady who was as confused as me. So we went up the long escalator again and asked the info desk again. The same chinki girl was there and she now assisted to take me to that gate. So we boarded the train number 21-47. I was confused and kept asking her why we got up in this train when we were to go to 49. She said in her typical chinki accent that we have to be in this only. I was fed up with her. Then she left me at 47 and asked me to go for a security check. I went for the check and after that there was a lady at the security she asked me where I was to go, and I told 49, she said there is no gate as 49. I was at my wits end. What was going on? So I asked her can she guide me to the proper gate. She asked about the flight I was to take. And I told her it was to Atlanta. It was then that she told me I was to go to gate 39 and not 49. I cursed the chinki thoroughly and went and sat at gate 39.


In the meanwhile I was too hungry but was too tired to go and get currency exchanged to Euros and then buy food. So I just wandered here and there looking at the shops and taking snaps. Then finally at 9.55 Paris time we were supposed to begging the boarding procedures and flight was at 10.40/ but even by 10.15 boarding didn’t start and people got restless. Finally at 10.45 they asked to form a queue. Almost after 15 minutes of waiting finally they let us start boarding. Once in the flight, it didn’t take off even after 30 min. so that time the pilot declared that there was some issues for which it might tackle time. This particular thing kept on repeating for 3 times in next 1 hour. We were all so tired half of the people fell asleep. Then finally they said something like they were waiting for a few missing passengers for which they couldn’t start the flight. Don’t know for whom they were waiting. Paris didn’t appear all glitz and glamour to me might be outside it would be good. To be a fashion capital it needed more jazz that’s what I felt. But while travelling in the bus shuttle between 2c and 2E I saw the path almost as dirty as some places in India. IN fact I would say, the Mumbai airport is far better maintained than this one. This looked nothing great. There was water clogging at places and dirt. The CDG 2E terminal however is well decorated. Red furnishing and dome shaped structure give it a tasteful look. And nice and expensive brands add color to it. But that’s it. Felt nothing much special in it. Might be I was too tired to appreciate things.


Finally the flight began and it was too cold inside. We literally had frost bite inside :( I felt I would get fever if it continued thankfully the temperature came back to normal in a short time. Paris sky was totally filled with clouds hence couldn’t see anything down.

When I reached Atlanta, the temperature outside was 26 degrees. So it was nice and warm. The flight had already got delayed by 2 hrs in Paris and another 20 mins it kept hovering over Atlanta as thunderstorm was taking place and it couldn’t land. So my flight was completely delayed through and through. After that was the long process of baggage collection, customs and stuff. Here baggage collection happened in two phases, first we collect our things and then we hand it over to the airport guys. After that they give us another terminal number and belt number from where we finally get our baggages. So after checking in my luggage for the 2nd time I was asked to board a metro train to go to that last belt. Now here also there was confusion galore. Just to confirm whether I was on track I asked an Indian couple where to collect my baggage. Seemed that I had asked the wrong guys they were waiting for a connecting flight and they told me all wrong things, where to go and what to do and stuff. So I left them and went ahead for a reliable source of info. Just then a bomb squad personnel was going and I asked him. So he escorted me to the proper belt. After that nothing it was a long wait for luggages. After collecting luggage’s I came out to the taxi stand finally and took a cab to Atlanta city. The driver was good and gave a nice briefing about the history of the city. He also told me about the buildings in downtown Atlanta.


Cox is in main city. So I called Uday for the address of the room. The area we live in is known as Dunwoody. The place is very different from San Diego. SD had a very organized look and feel. This one had a wild and vintage beauty to it. It looks more like a European city than an American one. Lots and lots of green all around, it almost feels like the Maharashtra in rains. Dense foliage all over. Bright blossoms dotting the landscape and wooden houses, apartments, etc at long gaps. Will take snaps and sent it across so that you can see what I mean.


The society has an automated security system. It had a phone outside wherein if a visitor is there and u are at home, the visitor needs to punch in a code and press call button. The call gets to your home and you can press the remote to activate the gate lock. The gate then slides back and you are allowed to enter. Else suppose you yourself want to enter the premises, then there is an access card that you swipe at the gate to make it slide. Nice system. The society consists of 3 floored apartments. We stay at the second floor. Nice ambience and all.

Shirisha and Uday appeared to be nice people. Especially Uday, he was very helpful and good humored. We did some shopping after I freshened up at an Indian mart. That when I noticed that even at 8.30 pm it has light like 6 am in India. Only by 9 it is dark. So before that you won’t even know its evening. After the Indian mart we went to an Indian restaurant where we had the biryani I mentioned before. Dinner was done before as restaurants would close by 10pm. So after dinner we went for the second round of shopping at Wal-Mart. Uday was under the impression that Wal-Mart was opened 24x7 hence he was in that mood of shopping. Thankfully it closed by 12 else I would have collapsed in the Wal-Mart itself :(. Even after coming home at 12.30 we were busy setting up the kitchen and all. It’s only by 2 am we went to bed and today I woke up by 7.30 :( so you can imagine the level of fatigue. Just feel like sleeping and having a good back massage.

I just learnt that here we have to go in for a drug test at the hospital before we can get a company icard. Might be tomorrow or day after someone will take us to the hospital for the tests. It’s a mandatory test over here.



Today also Sunitha's friend's are there. Her friends dropped us at the office in their car today morning. Here trains are known as Marta. So from tomorrow we take a Marta to a station named medical centre and from there we take the office shuttle which will drop us off at the office premises.

That's all for now. Will keep on adding my experiences.

So finally I have manged to shrug off the infamous jet lag with long sleeps over the weekend. Our area is known as North Springs in Atlanta, US. Every place around the neighborhood actually has very beautiful names like - Sandy Springs, Brooke Ridge,Cedar Chase, Meadowlake etc. The names are well suited because the entire area seems to be covered in a quilt of greenery. Dense thick trees on either side of the road dotted by the occasional peach, red,white and purple blossoms form the usual avenues around the communities. Its a very laid back place. people are very scarce on the road apart form the office area. Most of the time you will see people jogging along the narrow sidewalks lining the dense tree trail beside.

However tired I am I cant sleep beyond 10 am in the morning.It was Sunday morning, Manjry (our third roommate) was also up by then. The day was a bit overcast, making the greenery look a shade deeper and more alluring. We were having our morning coffee together when Manjry suggested we go for a drive. Sunitha was still sleeping hence both of us went out. Manjry drove around what is supposed to be the backside of our community. It was the best driveway around. Here nature was even more bountiful. The norther side of Atlanta is inhabited by wealthy people. So the drive we followed had only palatial penthouses with mind blowing Victorian architecture, stunning driveways and elegant lawns,fences and flowerbeds. The houses were almost covered from the public view by large trees. Almost it looks like the fairytale houses which are built inside forests. I was absorbing all these with a childlike yonder while asking Manjry about this and that. The roads which went in a sinusoidal curve were providing extra thrills.


As soon as we entered our apartment, it started to rain. On Friday night also we had a bout of thunder shower. We lamented for it not raining while we were out. We enjoyed the shower from our quaint wooden patio with tea and cookies.

Here in Atlanta the daylight is for quite long, from 6.30 am to 9 pm. So its very hard to know the time by looking outside and most of the time due to that we end up having dinner by 11 pm.Yesterday I prepared my first dish in Atlanta - a yummy egg curry and rice. Since Manjry is a vegetarian, so me and Sunitha enjoyed it.

The jet lag was still there hence we decided not to venture out for sightseeing this weekend. Although we surfed the net and zeroed in on some places which we will be visiting like the coke factory, ruby falls etc. Post lunch I wasn't in a mood to sleep unlike Sunitha, who dozed off the moment lunch was over. So me and Manjry sat watching a Hindi movie - 'Aage se right' on Netflix. The movie was not very great but we had a great time laughing together and watching a hindi movie in US. Let me tell you here that on Friday night we had gone to watch 'Inception' in theater. Even after the rains, it was a houseful for the 10.20 pm show. Here in US you don't have seat number, so its always first come first serve situation. We got late and ended up watching the movie from the second row from the screen. Also I was damn tired that day, because we also had to attend the welcome party thrown in our honor by the office teammates just before the movie. So my first Theater experience in the US was not really memorable. In fact I was so tired that I had dozed off in between somewhere. Need to watch the movie again!

Later in the evening we went to the Bank of America ATM to transfer cash from our traveler's card to the BoA account. It was such a simple process. We had to just withdraw the amount from the traveler's card and the ATM had a flap wherein we had to put the money, then it would count and automatically deposit in the Bank of America account. No hassle of standing at the counter or filling forms. We went to the Walmart next, had to get our daily supplies. Walmart is almost like a big-bazar over in India, just much bigger in size. We got ourselves all the food items we could. Here usually food items wont get spoiled fast, so its safe even to buy in bulk.


We had a long day hence were in no mood to cook dinner. Manjry called her friends and all of us together went to an Indian restaurant 'Swapna' for binging. The chicken biryani was too yum, in fact the best I have tasted in a restaurant ever!We also had mango lassi, it tasted more like a mango shake, but we were least concerned about it.We observed that there was an equal number of Americans and Indians at the restaurant.Here the restaurants offer so much food in one serving its hard to finish by one person. Also free starters are there which is enough to fill you before you start the main course.

We came back home well fed and happy. The first weekend thus ended with a mixture of experiences. As I slipped into the comforts of the warm bed at night, the words of Robert Frost reverberated in my mind - "Miles to go before I sleep..."

Human mind work in such a curious manner where by which we always wanted to fictionalize any simple thing which come across our way. We grow up to be skeptical.  We are taught to question everything that we see or hear. No arguing to the fact that we do need to question things at times for our own safety, but then at time we take the inquisitiveness and wishful thinking to a different level all together.

For an example, someone might just say - I like the way you think.

The skeptical brain would immediately start calculating -  was that an appreciation? Or was it a try to set the stage for telling something more demanding.

Basically our mind would conjure anything and everything other than a simple - okay, someone appreciated me. That’s so nice.

Due to the blustery weather if the door is shut, we might think of some evil spirits in action. After all, it is providing some sort of curiosity and spice for life.

It so happens that me and my room mate need to walk for about 15 to 20 minutes to reach our home. Also, for a few days it was raining during evening and hence we found it difficult to make it to home by walking. So, those gentlemen in our team who has the luxury to get a car on rent (To be specific who can spent USD 400 to 500 per month towards rental and insurance, especially when gasoline price is USD 3.5 per gallon) occasionally used to offer us lift.

But many a times, we enjoy walking primarily because it provide as a kind of forced exercise and a sense of fluttering around without hassle, not to mention we got ample time to gossip about the day's proceedings as we walked.

That particular day, we got out of office at 7 PM and it was pretty dark. We have to pass through a forlorn stretch devoid of any human beings. It was both dark and scary. There are a few companies like AT & T which we have to cross before reaching main road. Of course, the mind is so tuned to discuss all the eerie phenomena regarding paranormal activities especially when we had to cross this path.

Going by Rhonda Byrne’s Secret and Law of attraction, we might have attracted some unholy spirit with our constant discussion on clairvoyant subjects. So we did the best we could do - run. We used to check if there were no oncoming cars on the road, then we would start running in this stretch like there is no tomorrow. We did the same that day.  So after that running as we came out in the nicely lit part of the road still huffing from the brisk sprint, I happened to briefly look at the sky.

What were those on the sky? I nudged my roommate and drew her attention to the four white spots in sky. It looked like the reflection of beam of light but again the tail beam was not to be seen.

The four dots started gaining radius and they came close to form one single big circular object and in a moments time they started dispersing. It was like the movement of an octopus. There we stood frozen for a while and later we started comforting each other. But then the overdrive of Hollywood and Sci Fi movies on weekends yielded result and we gasped in unison “UFO”.

Those who read a lot on UFO might remember the clandestine news which is so popular and known as Roswell UFO Incident. In 1947, some extra terrestrial UFO crashed in Roswell in New Mexico State of US (Again not so far from our place) and US Army found some alien corpse. Afterward, they have engaged in some major research on aliens based on the debris available. Of course, many conspiracy theories are available on the basis of this.

Finally, we started walking ahead and there we came across a building on the other side of the road caught in fire and many military helicopters were engaged in surveillance. A possible interpretation of this white spots could be the military helicopters marking the space with some strong beam. We reached home and tuned to various channels to get to know more about fire accident in the locality but could not find anything regarding the same.

Afterward, back in our house, late night when my roommate was already asleep, I finished a few pending work and then before going to bed I thought of combing my hair and reached near the mirror on the dressing table. I switched on the dim light so that my roommate could sleep without disturbance.

In a few seconds I found something moving behind me and I was almost dead with the feeling of some cosmic force still playing pranks with me. You see we were still pretty jittery from the evening experience. I told myself – No, it is your mind in action. Think positive! Bur No ---- it was something. Someone is behind me covered in blanket. I wanted to scream, I could experience lump in my throat, I was getting asphyxiated!

I turned back and saw my roommate standing behind staring at me! I could not believe this and screamed “You were sleeping! What are you doing behind me?”

While saying this, I looked down to confirm whether her feet was touching the ground. Just in case.

In a hazy voice she told “Sorry dear, I just wanted to confirm whether your image can be seen in the mirror”

We stared each other for a whole minute, pinched each other and had a good laugh!

Good bye to all unholy spirits. At least for the time being, I do not have to hire a ghost buster.

Bandhs are so common in Bengal that people know Bandhs are just held to show the ruling party in bad light and not really for the welfare of common man. In fact its considered to be an irritant of the nth order. Still no one is bothered. Political benefit is the final word for the so called saviors of the common man.

Even if bandhs are such a common affair, I still remember one particular bandh day. I was only a kid of 4 years then, yet the memories of that particular day are so fresh because, we had to undergo a lot on that day.

We were in Darjeeling at that time. Uncle was posted there as a doctor. My aunt was expecting and hence could not make it to Kolkata, so we paid her a visit instead. It was a group of two families consisting of two pairs of grandma, grandpa's, aunts and their respective kids. We were about to leave next day.

Everything was packed, train tickets in place, schedules matched, we were ready. While having dinner we came to know that the GNLF had declared a three day bandh from next day. Shubhas Ghising, the GNLF leader blaring fiery speeches splashed across the television. The elders of the house looked quite worried. Our train to Kolkata was from New Jalpaiguri. And the descent from Darjeeling to NJ took at least 4 hours. Also since getting a reservation for so many people again would be next to impossible considering the rush season, cancelling our return was out of question. Anyone hardly had a wink of sleep that day apart from us kids.

Since we had never predicted such a situation previously we had thought of taking a taxi from the roadside car stand just adjacent to the quarters where we were staying. It was a grave mistake as when we came down the next day, there was not a single soul in the road, let alone taxi stand. The tension was increasing exponentially. A few locals got together and somehow managed to convince the driver of a dilapidated jeep to take us to NJ. As expected he charged an astronomical amount, with no other option, we bowed down.

Thus began our journey downhill.The usually busy market area bore a dead look, only a few goon type local guys were seen here and there. Within half an hour of driving we came across a procession of people carrying flags, festoons, placards mouthing slogans in the local dialect. Huge fires were lit up on all sides and effigy's burnt. Mob psychology was gathering pace. As we passed the area we also witnessed some violence between the leaders and a tourist group.Seeing the somber faces of the elders we could also feel the mounting tension. The elders had taken a great risk by deciding to travel along with kids on a day like this. We were badly praying to god, to see us through.

A short distance from there we faced another issue - Rasta roko (Road block). It seemed that we were not alone, there were tourists like us who had trains to catch and were forced to travel on a day like this. Two three jeeps were stranded before us. Our driver got out and engaged in conversation with the other divers and the protesters. They were all talking in Nepali and we could hardly figure out anything. After sometime the driver informed us that they were not ready to let us go at any cost, still he would try some more. Time was running out and so was our patience.

We had started early but with all these issues we were now having only 4 hours in hand to make it to NJ. Half an hour passed and still they didn't budge. Heated conversation followed between the frustrated tourists and the aggressive goons. We also saw some guys carrying arms among them. We kids were as much petrified as the elders. It was a moment of realization - life was more precious than catching a train. But we were already amidst the mess, and there was no wayout apart from praying. When the one hour margin had crossed, we left hope of making it to NJ, our only though was to get out of this. The elders had ordered the driver to turn back, when suddenly the unexpected happened.

We could hear sirens from a distance and soon we saw a convoy of white cars coming towards us. The political goons suddenly got busy clearing the way. It was then we got to know that GNLF leader Ghising himself was travelling to NJ and it was his convoy. It was a god sent opportunity. The road was narrow so in order to let his convoy pass, the vehicles in front had to be let off. Thus we were finally allowed to go! We couldn't believe our luck.

The driver also got charged and drove like Schumacher. By then we were so much drained with tension, that we hardly cared how he drove. We reached the station 10 minutes past the departure time of the scheduled train. We still had to cross a long over bridge to reach the platform. It was the run of a lifetime.

Grandpa ran before us to stop the train if there was a chance. My mom, granny, aunts ran behind him like there was no tomorrow with the kids dangling by their hands like rag dolls.

The coolis pulled the ladies in. Later we knew , considering the bandh they had delayed the departure of the train. By the time we took seats, the fatigue level was extreme. Mentally, physically we were absolutely derailed. We blessed our stars profusely that day which kept us safe amidst all the troubles.

Ours was just a one off case in which we got lucky. Most of the time it isn't. Bandhs like this might get all the attention for the opposition, but what does it offer to us - the janta? Only toll-full of miseries and harassment. Oh saviors of the common man, kindly take some time off from hogging the media light, ask us, do we want a bandh or do we want sanity? You protest against rising petrol prices, why don't you use fewer air-conditioned cars to decrease the load on nature and preserve the natural wealth yourself? Whom do you point fingers at when you are also one among the many responsible for depleting the natural resources thereby making them scarce and expensive. Promote awareness not bandhs!

From the day I have landed in this amazing place called San Diego, I have been learning the American ways of course the hard way. We are so used to the Indian lifestyle that knowingly or unknowingly we tend to follow the same over here, only to realize, this is not the way things should be done over here.

One of many such things is cooking on an electric stove and extensively using the microwave. Never in my life had I known the multi utility of this contraption if I had not come here. But of course after all it’s the Indian brain on the American gadgets so, you see wonders will definitely happen. So even with the electric oven we didn’t fret to prepare biryani, pakoras, chapattis or any other Indian delicacy.

Let me give you a small information here. We live in studio apartments over here which means it’s a single room in which you have an attached modular kitchen and bath. So everything in one space including the fire alarm. One day we had invited our colleagues for dinner. We had prepared 24 aloo parantha that day for 6 of us. We were so busy with the khana that we didn’t notice that the room was filled with smoke. When the guys came in they started coughing and complaining, its then that we realized that the fire alarm didn’t go off even if the room was exploding with burnt oil fume and smoke. The guys investigated and found that the smoke detector was off. Had a narrow escape that day from bringing down the whole neighborhood.

The food marts over here are filled with fresh produce. All the reds, greens,yellows and violets allure me to experiment with the pots and pans. One such marketing day I picked up a big fat brinjal in my hands and proposed with a smile– “Hey shall we try Baigan bharta today?” Meera, my roommate immediately snubbed me saying – “Are you crazy? Do you want the receptionist to hand us over to the police for trying to cause a fire in the hotel?”

Thus ended my ambitious dream of making bhaigan bharta with the American brinjal.

But, there are so many possibilities with the food stuffs over here that I always feel like experimenting with the dishes I have never tried my hands with. Like that day when I coaxed Meera that we will make stuffed capsicum for dinner. I absolutely hate and Meera loves capsicum hence when I took the initiative of cooking capsicum, Meera hardly had any objection.

I made a yummy filling with mashed potato, chilli,onion etc and stuffed it inside the capsicum generously.By then Meera was free and she took upon her the responsibility of shallow frying the stuffed capsicums.Very willingly I handed over the baton to her. As I was free I decided to ring home in that time. Before moving out to the lawn I told Meera - "I'm keeping the door ajar, as the room is getting a bit smoky"

Just as I put the first step outside, a deafening shrill voice started ringing behind me. I dashed inside fearing the worse.

"Jeezz the fire alarm!" She panicked.

I panicked double the time and stood transfixed looking at the fire alarm right on the top of my bed howling like a banshee. I never had imagined in my life that it could shriek in this ear-splitting manner.

Meera jumped on my bed with a wet towel and began waving it below the alarm. Nothing happened. The shrill embarrassing sound kept on bellowing at its best.

With no other option, I rang the front desk giving the detail of the mishap. She suggested to keep the door open for sometime so that the smoke goes off and the alarm would eventually die out.

I did the exact thing, I opened the door fully and immediately slammed it shut! Because I deliberated, if everyone in the adjacent rooms hear this sound they all will panic.

Meera could not quite reach up to the alarm, hence I jumped on the bed and tried to switch off the alarm while Meera instructed - "You got to hold the button down for 30 seconds to get it to stop" . Poor me I was still struggling to locate the goddamn button with the speaker of the alarm right next to my ears.

I got down and thought what to do next. Meera said she will try once again, and began hitting the alarm with wet towel. I thought it wise to call the front desk again before someone complained. The receptionist understood the plight of us this time and was on her way. I saw her coming down with a box and another lady. All of a sudden there was silence. I looked back and saw Meera giving a victorious smile while the fire alarm dangled from the roof.

"Goodness heavens! How did you manage to uproot that?!" I was at my wit's end.

"It's okay at least that stupid thing stopped na?" she said smugly.

"Darn, now we will be paying for this damage till the rest of our lives and that too in dollars!!"

By then there was a knock on the door. The receptionist was there. I held the door for her red-faced, while the other lady went inside and inspected the damage done. There was positive fear on my face for the consequence.

''What were you cooking?'' The receptionist asked me trying to sniff her way through the mess.

I was sure that she would say next - ''It smells so yuck and burnt'' so I stammered managing a toothy smile, ''Well nothing, its just capsicum you see''

She smiled and said, ''It smells so yummy!''

I almost fainted.

I looked back at her to reconfirm whether I heard the right thing. She was still smiling. By then the other lady had uprooted the entire alarm. After that she educated us on the alarm. That's when we came to know that it was a smoke alarm and not a fire alarm as we had thought. It was basically for detecting smoke while anyone was in sleep and alert them.

After some pleasantries and promise to repair it next day they left leaving us in a state of partial shock. They didn't ask us to pay for the damages and also appreciated the food! Our faces were a sight to behold.

We looked at the dangling wires from the ceiling and burst out laughing.

I wondered whether we should have ideally offered them some stuffed capsicum for their generosity. But then decided otherwise.  I didn't want to end up in jail on charges of trying to food poison someone from the front desk.

Rains in Bengal make you feel like someone opened the tap and forget to close it. It goes on endlessly throughout the day. No one likes to go out in such a weather leaving the comfort of home. Even the cats. So, one day, Junglee needed to pee and could not go out. He was waiting at the entrance looking at the rain. I had to get something from the garden and took an umbrella and steeped out in the rain. Junglee came running along with me under the umbrella. I held the umbrella while His Highness finished his urgent call of nature and then again brought him back- safe and dry. He licked my fingers as a mark of gratefulness.

Junglee always believed that he was a far more superior species than the dumb humans around him. He believed that we had the honor of him staying with us as an outcome of some good deeds that we had done in our past lives. He always lived life king size. He was very moody and since he was the first cat in our family, he was also quite pampered. I never regarded him as a pet. Since I was an only child, I always addressed him as my li’l naughty brother. I never felt the need for a sibling because he was always with me. I had a separate study room – which was completely my world. No adults were allowed there. Only Junglee was allowed. There was a sofa in my room. He used to climb up on it after lunch for his afternoon nap. Then he used to begin his marathon licking. Cats like to be clean always and Junglee was extremely particular about the way he looked. Sometimes, I used to take him in my lap for cuddling. But, finally, I used to give up bored and frustrated with his never ending grooming. My legs would start aching and all the love would vanish as I deposited him on the sofa and started my own work. He usually slept with both of his legs spread apart facing the ceiling, since he needed the air to flow over his fat little belly. He was always very patient with me. I used to tell him all my worries, fear, happiness and daily happenings. He was the first to know about my crushes. I cried my heart out before him when Rahul Dravid (I was cent percent sure I would marry him one day) got married. Funny as it may sound, before every Maths exam I used to touch his feet and say, “Please let me pass this time. I promise I will study harder the next time.” Well, the next time never came and this became a ritual for me. I had this notion that I would surely flunk the paper if I did not touch his feet before the exam. Later, I started to do the same before chemistry exams too. And you know what? I, miraculously, passed every single chemistry exam, which I was sure to fail in otherwise.

He used to love sitting on my books and notebooks, playing with my pens, chewing my eraser and making paw marks on my just completed homework. I did get angry but that was nothing compared to that one particular day when I got really mad at him. I had finished making a craft project depicting ‘A happy family at Diwali’ after working continuously for two days. It was to be put up on the school board on Parent’s Day. I had gone to the dining room for dinner. When I came back, I saw torn paper all over the floor in my room and Junglee sitting on the top of my craft project chewing away happily. I almost had a major cardiac attack as I rushed to my table. He had already gobbled up the mother. Now, he was half-way through with the fathers head. “Eeeeeeeeeeee”, I yelped, crossing the 60 decibel limit and hit him on the back. He became so frightened that he jumped out of the open window and fled. I was inconsolable after that. Somehow, Ma did some perfect damage control and my craft project looked better than ever. But, Junglee did not return that night; not even for dinner, which he could never live without. The morning passed and he did not come. I could not eat my lunch properly as I was feeling extremely miserable for frightening him like that. Finally, he came back in the evening all brushed up. I was never so happy in my whole life and hugged him tightly and went on kissing him till he hit me with his paw on my nose. I swore never to scold him again.

I was feeling very sorry because he had not eaten for almost a day because to me. I fed him all I could. The amazing part was that Junglee was not fat at all. But, he had a tremendous appetite and was always hungry. Food just vanished inside him. All the time I was feeling sorry for him, little did I know why he was late in coming back home. I discovered it after two days. I was sitting in the veranda trying to solve a stupid integration problem when I saw Junglee with another dirty white cat. Quite unnatural. Usually, whenever he was with any other cat, they were always fighting. Instead, he was going all mushy-mushy over this new feline. No wonder!

A close observation revealed it was a ‘she’. “Junglee’s got a girlfriend”, I announced to Ma happily. After that, Junglee was generally absent half the time. He didn’t even come back to eat. It is from him that I learnt that falling in love can be such a tedious job. He had a number of girlfriends during his life time, and every time he brought a girl home, I thought he deserved a better looking feline.

Junglee always slept in my bed. During winters, he would snuggle inside my quilt and start purring once he was warm and comfortable. I liked it too because the body temperature of cats is generally higher than humans and it felt warm when I hugged him and slept. During the summer, he would sleep at one corner of the bed. When I sleep, I migrate into a pseudo world and don’t expect me to wake up even during an earthquake (just kidding?). So, one day, I was in deep slumber when, maybe, I kicked Junglee by mistake. Well, this was the second thing that Junglee disliked - being disturbed while sleeping (first is PDAs remember?). I will remember, all my life, the bite that I received from him after that. “Aaaaaaaaaaa”, I woke up holding the big toe of my foot in pain. He gave me a, “Serves you right, you moron. That will teach you a lesson or two about keeping your feet to yourself.” look and drifted off to sleep.

Junglee was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me in 25 years. After him, we adopted many more cats (we had 5 cats at one time). But, he was the most intelligent cat I had ever seen. It may sound cheesy but he was my friend, philosopher and guide. I can go on and on about the happiness he brought into my life. I really doubt whether I could have loved a real brother, if I had one, as much as I loved Junglee. He was with me for 11 long years before I went to Calcutta to attend college. It was very hard for me to stay away from him and all the other cats. He was l2 years old when he passed over to Rainbow Ridge. (A name for cat heaven).

I held him in my arms and wished him a safe journey as the last breath left his body. I will never forget that day. It was truly one of the hardest things I had to endure. Because I held him as he passed, I think part of his soul is attached to mine and I feel him with me always. I truly loved him and felt that he was a kindred spirit. While I write all this, every moment is coming back to me and making me happy and sad at the same time. I still miss him terribly even though he is gone for almost five years now. If he is somewhere and seeing me write this, I just want to say that,

“I love you. You are the most handsome man I will ever meet. There can be no one like you. You will always rule my heart.”

C ~ CUDDLY

A ~ ADORABLE

T ~ TERRIFIC

I love cats. And that is the universal truth. Today I will tell you how my never ending love

story with these fluffy little bundles of joy began. It was a lazy afternoon in 1992. We had shifted to a new house recently. New house, new neighborhood and everything. I had got my own little room, which meant I was a big girl now. Our neighbors had a puja that evening, so Ma was helping them out. Dad was at the department. So that left me alone at the house. Within a short while I got tired of watching the TV and decided to explore the backyard of our house. Since everything was new, I was on a never ending exploration spree those days. I opened the door and went out. Everything was calm and quiet, except for the occasional rustling of the leaves and the chirping of birds. Nothing very interesting. I turned my back and was about to go, when I heard a faint “meow”.I stopped in my tracks and turned around. I looked around. Nothing. “Meow”. I heard it again,this time a bit louder. Then, I saw something move in the pile of leaves in one corner of the courtyard. I went there and saw a tiny thin black striped mass wiggle out of the leaves. Anyone seeing it for the first time would think what an ugly kitten it was, but for me anything even remotely related to a cat was cute. I bent down and patted it. It rubbed its head on my legs. It was then that I saw it limp with each step it took. It was hurt. How could anyone hurt this little thing, I thought aghast. I ran inside and brought a little milk and bread. It could not eat the bread properly as it was very small, but had a little milk. How I wished to take it inside with me. But I did not know whether Ma would allow it, though she, too, loved cats. It was still rubbing its head against my leg. I took all my will power to go inside and lock the door though my heart broke to leave that little thing outside. After 5 minutes, I opened the door again and peeked outside. The little thing came wobbling to me and straight inside. It looked around the kitchen and went into the hall as if it knew the house well. I picked it up and hugged and kissed it. It felt so good. I had a cat when I was a toddler and I wanted to have one again. My reverie broke when the doorbell rang. I knew it was Ma. So I hurriedly left the kitten in the backyard and opened the door.

As hard as I tried to put the thoughts of the little one behind, I could not. I went to the kitchen where Ma was cooking and told her about the little thing. She looked at me and said, “Taking care of a pet can be a lot of trouble. You do know that”. I didn’t want to know anything, I just wanted it. ”It won’t be much of a trouble” I said. Ma opened the backyard door. There was no sign of the cat. My heart skipped a beat. I frantically looked around. Finally, I found it sleeping peacefully against the trunk of the large jackfruit tree. “See it’s so small and hurt too. Please can we take it home?” I was almost on the verge of crying. Well, that was it. Ten minutes later, Ma and I were making a bed out of a worn-out rug while the little thing looked on. By then, Ma had already cleaned it and given it some more milk. But, it was more interested in watching what we were up to. After a comfortable bed was made we put the little one in it. ”This is your bed from today”; I said to the little one and smiled. It kind of nodded its head, as if it understood what I said. It did not object to the small bed we had made for it initially. It knew that it had succeeded in convincing us to take it in and soon the time would come when it would be promoted to our bed. It just sat there and groomed itself and seemed very happy.

“What should we call him?” I asked Ma. It was a ‘he’, Ma had already told me. Ma had also told me that he was a wildcat. He also had black and white stripes like a tiger. These stripes were very condensed when he was small and it made him look more like an owl rather than a cat. So we named him “Junglee”. Short and sweet. At first, he did not respond when we called him by his name, but soon he understood and came running every time we called him.

Junglee was a very intelligent cat and well mannered, and he learnt the rules of the house pretty soon. Maybe, he was the first generation in his family to be domesticated. So, he had his wild instincts intact. He was not the typical domestic cat that one generally sees. He was the master of his own will. He was adorable only when he wanted to be. He really did not love excessive PDAs (public displays of affection). But I just loved doing that to him (naughty me? ). I used to pick him up, cuddle him, and kiss him and do all sort of mollycoddling that irritated him. But, maybe, he knew that I was the one who was responsible for making him a part of the family. So, he bore with me. He loved to eat everything that I ate.

Somehow, he had the misconception that this small monster is always given the best things to eat. So whenever I sat down for eating, he was there at my side giving me a look that said, “Aren’t you going to offer me some?” That look in his eyes made me feel like a criminal and I used to immediately give him some of it. So there he sat with me, giving me that look till I finished my food. After that, he would just walk away like a prince and not even look back at me. So much for feeling guilty!

I still remember a particular incident. It was past midnight. We were all fast asleep. Suddenly we head a big catfight in our yard. All of us got up immediately. The first reaction was to search for Junglee. But he was not in the house. Panic started to build up. Papa opened the door hurriedly. It was pitch dark outside and, well, Junglee was not exactly so fair that we could spot him instantly. We ran towards the origin of the brawl. I feared the worst. Junglee was quite small then and if any big cat was fighting with him, I really did not want to think about the consequences. We began calling him frantically. Then, we saw two green eyes staring at us in the dark. “It is him”, I almost jumped with joy. Sure enough, Junglee was sitting on the cement culvert we had in our garden, observing two other cats fight. Ma picked him up and took him inside. He was not that interested in coming back but Ma was too shaken. So, she put him in our bed. Now this was the thing he really had his eye on for long, so he could not complain. That was the day our bed became his bed. After that day he continued with his midnight shenanigans, learning the art of warfare from other cats. All this dedicated training paid off and he went on to become very skilled in the art of catfight. He would always emerge victorious and by the time he was three, he was the king of our colony.

Another incident happened when Gujarat was affected with plague. With the plague spreading like wildfire, warnings and preventive measures were doing the rounds of the print media and TV. Even a single mouse was enough to unnerve us. It was evening time and Ma and I were watching TV and relaxing. Now, Junglee’s way of entering the house was generally through the window. So, when a black mass jumped into the room from the window we knew it was him and continued to watch TV. Now there was a small bed beside the window. After coming inside, Junglee vanished under the bed. During a break, I went to the bed to see what he was doing down there for so long. When I bent down, to the horror of my horror, I saw him playing with a mouse, which was almost the same size as him. I shrieked as a natural reaction. Seeing me, he came out boldly with the mouse dangling in his mouth. Well he was having trouble doing so, because he was small then. But that did not prevent him from showing off his great achievement – his first prized catch. He deposited the rodent at my feet and started to rub his head against my leg. I almost jumped three steps back. Maybe he expected me to congratulate him and pat him for this brilliant feat. By then, Ma came to see what the fuss was about. She gave, more or less, the same kind of reaction as I did minus the jumping part. Ma shouted at Junglee for his doings and shooed him off. He looked at us, unsure, and leapt out of the window. A long cleaning session with soap, Phenyl and Dettol proceeded until Ma was completely sure that the place was disinfected. We had just settled down after the safai abhiyan, when a black mass jumped inside again. Because of the fiasco the last time, Ma was alert this time and got up to see what he was up to. She did not even take a step when Junglee came straight to her feet, dragging a mouse which was double his size. Ma froze in her steps. After placing it at her feet, he looked up at Ma with much expectation. It seemed like he interpreted our panic the last time as our dissatisfaction at seeing such a small rodent. So, this time he bettered himself with a bigger catch and proudly presented it to Ma, whom he thought to be much more sensible than me and who could identify true valor. We gathered from his approach that he had no intention of eating it and was just showing off his skills and trying to get some credit like before. This time we did not panic. On the contrary, both of us begin to laugh. I guess this is what extreme shock does to you. Junglee did not quite like it when we cleared the mess and kept on meowing in disapproval. After the cleanup, Ma asked me to hold him while she cleaned his tooth, which was again a tough thing to do with all the clawing and pawing involved. After that, Ma closed all the windows and made him sit on the chair like a good cat and threatened to throw him out if he did something like that again. His nonchalant face expression said, “You ignorant people! You can never identify real talent, even if it jumped up and bit you!”

Continued in Part 2

I was reading an article on ragging today and  started remembering all the times I was ragged. Initially I remembered my sophomore years in college. Just as I was walking down the memory lane, I remembered an incident from my lower Kindergarten days(I was 3 something years then) . I studied in a catholic school. The lower KG section was separated by a long corridor from the main school premises. Our teachers would make us form a long line and lead us to the playground which was in the main school premises. There was a separate playground for the kids which housed a slide, see-saw and jungle gym (those complex constructions from metal pipes, on which children can climb, hang, or sit). Climbing has always been my passion :), so my favorite thing was the jungle gym. I used to climb up to the highest level and sit there watching the other kids scurry about in the playground. Small girls like altitude, same was with me. It kind of gave a satisfaction of being at a higher level than the others.

One day our class teacher was absent. Generally during such occurrences a senior student(minder) would be assigned of 'minding' the class for the day. They would come and make us play games and engage us in different activities in the class room in a disciplined way so that the teacher less class won’t create commotion.

It was our games period. The senior made us form a line and lead us to the playground. We played while she chatted with one of her friends along with keeping a tab on us. Me and Rini (my best friend during those days) were perched up at our usual position on the jungle gym. For some unknown reason the senior's friend kept on looking at us all the while. We felt a bit uncomfortable but couldn’t help it. We knew there was no point in complaining to the senior as the other girl must be her best friend from the way they were talking.

The game period ended. The senior called for everyone to form a line. Me and Rini were the last one to join every time as we wanted to enjoy the jungle gym till the last moment. Finally before the line started to move class wards, we started to climb down. The kids already started to move by the time we reached ground and we ran to join the line. Just then we were stopped by the other girl. She stood on our way with her hands stretched. We looked at her questioningly.

"Hi I am Bhavna" She said.

Rini and I exchanged looks. She looked scared. I mustered up some courage and mumbled, "Our line is going"

"It's ok. I have talked with your minder, you can be with me for a while" She said with an odd smile.

For the first time I felt a bit feared. Catholic schools are so disciplined that the moment you do something odd, a complaint would go to the principal. Firstly we did not join the line when we were supposed to and now we were stranded in the playground with a stranger.

She saw the fear in our eyes and said, “Don’t worry I will let you go the moment you do what I ask you to do"

We didn’t have the guts to ask what.

"OK so tell me ABCD start to end" she commanded to Rini.

She fumbled a number of times but completed it somehow. Now she looked at me and ordered, “Tell 1 to 100"

Instantly Rini started crying, when it should have been me who would have cried. I got stuck at eighty nine. She waited for sometime and then with an irritated look said, " Since you couldn’t complete it you have to stay back and your friend can go!"

I was horrified to hear that. Bhavna tried to shoo away Rini but she did not budge.

Bhavna looked at me and said, “What is 1000 plus 500?" I didn’t have any clue what she was speaking about. Seeing me stammering Rini started to cry loudly.

"I will slap you if you cry once more!" She said and made hand gestures of slapping.

This opened the floodgates and Rini started to wail at the top of her voice!

Fortunately for us a senior guy was going through the ground. He heard the wailing and came to us. He looked senior to Bhavna and demanded what was going on. Now it was her turn to fumble. The guy scolded her and warned her strictly. After that he led us to our class room and explained everything to the teacher. We were shaking like dry leaves till the time we reached our classroom. The teacher and the guy assured us that we were safe and nothing to worry. But that incident had instilled a sharp fear in us. From that day onwards we always kept close to the other kids while in play ground and was always first to form the line.

So that was the first time I encountered ragging in my life. The incident might sound very trivial now, but back then it was truly a frightening experience. It taught us the important lesson never to be left behind in a group. But then again, old habits die hard. especially with me. :) I will tell you another interesting tale when I was left behind and its consequences some other day.

Have a great day!

My father was a professor at IIT kharagpur.And hence I had spend some beautiful time of my life in that place. IIT kgp is a silent and dreamy little town. Not much hustle bustle. but still growing up there had its own share of excitement. IIT kgp may be a small town but is wholesome in itself. It has everything -market,postoffice, swimming pool, movie hall, stadium,restaurents,schools,hospitals, etc.There is something magical about growing up in small towns and villages.The friends you go to school with are also the ones you play with in the evenings. Their parents are friends of your parents. Friendships that are made last a lifetime. Secrets are few and community support makes up for the open societal structure. The experience is probably entirely different from the parents' perspective, when they are overwhelmed with raising young children in an environment that does not offer a lot of the facilities that are available in big cities. For us, the kids, this was an experience that has remained as one of the best periods of our lives. As in any place, it is the people who make up the community. These ramblings are about all those people who touched my life in many ways. Most of them were considered 'failures' by the society, and I was told that I would end up like them if I did not concentrate hard on my studies. Needless to say, I studied very hard and kept sports, art and music, my true interests at a distance.

Certainly, I did not want to become someone like the paper-delivery man when I grew up. He was an old man, probably younger than he looked, with a balding head, save for the little white hair around the sides. A big white moustache made him look like he was an ex military person, which he could very well have been. He would come in his rickety bicycle with all the papers and magazines delicately balanced on the handlebar. His bicycle did not have a stand and that meant that he would have to invent unique ways to make it stand upright every time he descended from it to deliver a paper, which was pretty often. Leaning the bicycle against a tree or a lamppost was common, but the nearest lamppost in front of our house was in a ditch full of thorns and the shade of the nearest tree was housing my father's scooter. The poor chap had to take recourse into ingenuity and came up with a novel way of balancing the bicycle by placing a brick under one of the pedals, something I could never do with my bicycle after several tries. Then again, I was privileged to have a stand with mine.

His stack would have all kinds of papers and my favourite, all kinds of magazines. He wouldn't mind if I went through his stack and would occasionally let me keep a Gokulam or an Illustrated Weekly overnight. I never failed to return it the following day and never with a tear or even a fold in any of the pages. With these simple acts he taught me to take responsibility when placed with a trust. No school taught me that.

--

A postman is certainly not what I wanted to be when I grew up. A dark skinned, sun burned man came by everyday to deliver our letters. If our paths crossed on the road before the mail was delivered for that day, he would stop his bicycle and reach into his bag and hand me my mails, if there were any, which he always remembered without checking into his bag. The spontaneity with which he would go out of his way to serve someone is a small act, but meant volumes to me. It was a familiar sight to see him come down the road, stopping at every house to deliver mail. The anticipation grew to joy when he would park his bicycle in front of our gate. At an age, when there were no junk mails, every piece of mail was guaranteed to be handwritten by the sender with a message just for us. To see him go past our house and park at the next one meant that there were no mails for us that day. The sun might very well have stayed hidden that day.

--

A young boy, not much older than me when I was in my early teens, opened up a bicycle repair shop under a tree next to Nair's canteen. He would come in the morning with a bicycle pump, a small toolbox and a bucket, which he would fill up with water after he sets up shop. 10 paisa to pump air into one tire, 15 paisa for two were his introductory rates. A flat repair would fetch him 75 paisa. The long line of bicycles waiting to be repaired after just a few days indicated that his business was doing well. I was told that life would reward you if you did an honest hard day's work. Watching Ramu's sweat drenched back and tattered clothes while he was plying me, or watching the young boy carefully applying glue to fix a flat tire, made me think about life's true rewards. They did not have money, yet they did not take the easy way out looking for it. These men could hold their heads up high with a smile and take everything that life threw at them. I realized then that money has very little to do with life's true rewards.

--
Our parents always teach us to value money and spend it wisely. Back then most of the beggars that we used to come across were fake and a real menace. One of my earliest memories of the Tech market when I was a first or second grader is that of a cobbler who would sit by the entrance fixing shoes. A very old man, in the twilight of his life, he was beyond poor. He was halfway between being a beggar and a cobbler. One day, I was waiting in line behind a gentleman who was getting his shoe fixed by this cobbler. He put in two nails with his shaking hands and returned the shoe with a smile and said, "20 paisa". The gentleman stuck his hand into his pocket and came up with a 50-paisa coin. While handing over the money to the cobbler, he said, "Keep the change. You need it more than I do." I changed that day. I went home and thought hard on this very simple act of compassion that this gentleman, Dr. Sircar had shown to the cobbler. Would my parents scold me if I gave money to someone who really needs it? The conflicting thoughts of being careful with money while understanding its value and that of charity and philanthropy began playing a game of tug-of-war on my head. I saw the world with a different eye from that day on. I can still close my eyes and hear that statement I heard some 20 years ago.

--

"We are prone to judge success by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobile rather than by the quality of our service and relationship to mankind", said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. This is almost forgotten by a largely capitalist world right now where a person's success is directly equated to the size of his house and the value of his car.

I hope to teach these values I learnt as a child, through the most unusual and unexpected of sources, to my children. I would know that I have been a successful parent if I see such integrity and compassion in my children, regardless of the size of their houses or automobiles. In an age of corporate and political corruption, I am reminded of a quote made by one Alan Simpson - "If you have integrity, nothing else matters. If you don't have integrity, nothing else matters."