"Enthu cutlet" about nicknames and slang

I love to use Bombayya Hindi slang and miss trading it with friends back home. Meanwhile, Usha is the guru of entertaining Tamil proverbs and wordplay. Poor Aakash, this multi-lingual noise boomerangs around his sanitized, mostly Anglicized world.

This silly Saturday morning, it was a new family game: we each get a 'pet name' formed out of Hindi / Tamil slangs, sayings, and other illicit wordplay.

For this weekend, Usha is "enthu cutlet" (Hindi slang, meaning over-enthusiastic. 'Cutlet'?? Forget etymology, just meaningless but memorable street talk).

I am "Sondhum kariyam zindabad" (Tamil, meaning self-centered plus Hindi, zindabad meaning long live. Imagine my luck, a multi-lingual novelty as my first nickname:).

Aakash is "vengayam bhajjee" (Tamil, think "Flat Stanley").

Rules of the game? The idea is to use these privately, our own little family secret. (Facebook is not real-world, does not count:) With long nicknames, its quite possible they get shortened, and thats fine. For e.g. "Sondhum kariyam" might become just Sondhum. All power to the user.

Pet names convey affection. Those who know us well also know that Sondhum, enthu cutlet, and vengayam carry more than a grain of truth about us three:)

Nicknames were an important part of growing up. Remembering a specific name that your parent or a favored relative used for you is the kind of pinprick on memory that few other recollections can beat. The tradition of giving nicknames was especially strong when horsing around with boyhood friends. You could be a slightly obese kid and the kind of names some friends might give you? - now, those would be the real pinpricks on memory.

Some family nicknames meant to poke fun become legendary, and I cannot resist sharing just one, political correctness be damned. "Ombhadu kalluh" (Tamil; nine tiles for a relative who was so big that when she sat on the floor, her girth would occupy all of 9 tiles). Tee hee.

And what's next with this weekend game? I'm trying to convince family that besides donning the names, we should also prove worthy of it. I'm also hoping, selfishly, to have several reruns of this particular nickname for myself. After all, how can it get better than "sondhum" kariyam" for myself when it is "enthu cutlet" for Usha?

Road trip to remember - Yellowstone & Grand Teton

Having experienced it now, I can say it’s both deeply unsettling and deeply comforting to drive in the mountains. It’s as if dearly departed ancestors were watching over us from all directions.

There are the majestic mountains, like grandpa with regal bearing who always liked to show the way. Then there are the pale and beautiful mountains - that would be mom, omnipresent. Some mountains have a dark shadow fall over them such as the uncle who's likely berating me for going 10 over speed limit to make time. Shadowy mountain behind a mountain such as the relative you hero worshiped and then found him to be a closet smoker. All of them though giving guidance, especially in the crazy 60 mi stretch through the mountain pass from Wyoming to Idaho that had 10 grade inclines. Due to tad bad planning and some route compulsions, we had to drive that way not once, not twice, but thrice.

We just completed a 1900 mi road trip starting from Salt Lake and covering the length and breadth of Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks. In doing so, we traversed the states of Wyoming, Montana, Utah, and Idaho. It was a trip that left us alternately shaking our heads in disbelief and bowled over by the dazzling show nature rolled out for us. Seeing rugged mountains, rolling meadows and falls, and sighting wildlife, geysers & springs all over the space of a week felt unreal and dreamlike. No, felt too unreal even for a dream. Add to that, we saw some stunning architecture such as the Salt Lake City library and the Grand Teton visitor center.

For someone who never longed to or enjoyed driving in Mumbai (I would hail a cab even for some doctor visits for mom, that's how wretched), this new found love of driving and road trips feels both a curse and a blessing. 

If I had seen a mud pot or caldera or geyser eruption when I was say 9, that event would have been life changing. And instilled a life-long love for the sciences, instead of the semi struggle that was engineering. And I wonder why my favorite TV show characters are from the geek comedy show Big Bang theory.

The irony of a nature road-trip though is this: vast stretches of rugged wilderness throw us off, even frighten us a bit; give us our expressway oasis and fast food joints and we're in our comfort zone.

There’s a lot of idle chatter on road trips of course - from cooking styles of family members (everything on slow simmer for max flavor vs boiling the heck out of everything for the last filter coffee/ chai before guests leave) to how third grade class will be like. But road trip conversations also take on the syntax of places being seen. The biggest geyser in Yellowstone is called Old Faithful. After seeing that, Usha started calling the never ending big bag of Costco veggie straws as the "old faithful".

There were other sparkling moments too. 

Aakash picking up a stuffed owl from the visitor center at Jackson Hole MT because it reminded him of Hedwig from Harry Potter.

Meeting a lady (who incidentally had 20 grandkids, 4 of Aakash' age) who was writing a novel with her story climaxing at the bottom of the Canyon Falls. I learned later that there is an entire genre of novels for children that are set in and around National parks.

Usha has recently started using a wearable exercise and sleep tracker called Fitbit. Some mornings in the rush to hit the road, she will forget to change it from sleep to regular mode. And Fitbit will continue to track her day trekking as if its sleep mode. Does that make her a Superwoman sleep walking around the canyons and springs in Yellowstone?

I don’t know what it is about vacation destinations, the more of the wilderness variety, the more it attracts the preening and posing tourist. I do not envy the poor boyfriends who are constantly clicking their ladies in numerous Facebook worthy pics. Once, we saw a moose rubbing its antlers against a tree and when it was throwing its head back, my thought was: had it picked a tip or two over the years and was mocking the much photographed female Asian tourists?

Speaking of geysers, vaca is also a good time to blow steam - something the daily grind does not afford. Usha, Aakash and I are a small, tight family unit and that can sometimes be a tinderbox:) (As an aside, I am convinced the average # of kids in each YW vacationing family was 4 – way to show us up, you guys:). The grind of juggling important work meetings with piano and swimming schedules can leave unfinished conversations in its trail. A vacation, while all happiness and light, and a road trip at that should give the time and space to finish anything that flares up.

As a sign of what a vulnerable and volatile natural spot YW is, we saw carbon craters and geysers at numerous random places on the way and not just the designated tourist spots such as Old Faithful and Midway geyser. Ever so often there'll be another rumor of how YW is going down because of a massive geyser eruption, and the park service will have to put out another clarification that all is well. During our trip, we also saw blackened patches amidst the mountain greens, due to forest fires not uncommon in this area. Made us wonder if all this would still be around in a generation or two, and that lent urgency and seriousness to our trip.

These parks are quite popular and so clearly, a large number of picture-takers [oops, tourists:)] everywhere. However, I imagine you could hear the gasps [of being stunned by the sights] as frequently as the clicks of pictures being taken. I will confess that the SLR I tend to lug around on vacations did not see much action this trip. Most captures were from my handy Samsung S5 phone camera: started with a few pictures and was so happy with results, kept going that way. It was liberating to use the phone camera and not have to worry about the right lens and A & S specs in an SLR camera. That can sometimes bog you down, especially for amateur photographers such as me, and come in the way of enjoying the sights. 

Then there were the road trip rituals. For us, it means Costco was the first destination we sought out after landing in Salt lake. Plenty of juicy fruits to balance the fried snacks is how we roll. Bear sighting is the rare but big thing in these parts and everyone is advised to take precautions. We took care not to stock any Indian food in the car, who's to say that the American grizzly and black bears are not as enamored by curries and spices as many American people these days are:)?

Winding the road trip with a fabulous Indian dinner is starting to become another ritual. This time, it was at Bombay House in Salt lake city. The origin of their two main chefs - one from Patiala and one Afghani - meant the food was going to be an authentic delight. We were told they even grind their own spices, no wonder then - and no kidding - that the aroma wafted in even as we were just turning into the strip mall where it was located.

A memorable vacation is when you have dreams about what has happened even as the vacation is on, not just after. That said, a vacation does not change the course of life or make us better human beings. We are obliged to return to the same grind and one-upmanship: about one’s career, life and kids. But while it’s on, a vacation should be about better attention spans, to listen more and to rejoice often. It’s a chance to slow the pace and bottle memories for little whiffs later on.

In the process, maybe - just maybe, travel has broadened our minds and helped us appreciate more our fellow travelers.

Driving in the flat Chicagoland area after our return home, we keep thinking the mountains will loom up soon. Maybe at the next turn. Likely not.

Limericks

There was a crabby cynic called Maloney;
Who wrote limericks full of iron(e)y;
With not a bit of baloney;
He invited himself to a comedy club;
Certain that he would not flub;
But soon they put the mute on his microphone(y)


There was a not-so-young bloke wherefrom not sure anymore;
He liked to put pen to papore;
While with his spreadsheets there was langour;
He needs to break out of the shackles
But then he's also known for his stupor


There was a bashful bloke from Mumbai
fervent about vada-pav and cutting chai;
Now in Chicago, yearning for days old,
Goes back on vacation it is told;
Pancake and fondue with friends, taste like humble pie? 
 

Staying afloat and losing sleep

Aakash has a break from his team swim sessions. In the interim, he goes for classes at the Y pool to hone skills, such as side breathing. For this Sunday class at 1120AM, there are just 3 students. Coincidentally, its a white American girl, an African-American boy and (Aakash) an Asian boy.

This kind of integration is not unusual in the least and I imagine is the norm in swimming pools and soccer fields across the US this Sunday morning. Aakash has been swimming for several years now and is as much the expert, as I'm not. He will sometimes want to show off, and cause the conservative TamBram in me to cringe. That is, he will do tricks in the water (front flip and touching the bottom) that to a novice such as me, feels borderline dangerous. This is of course an example of what you would call a clear and present danger.

There are also the unseen dangers you cannot plan for. As parents, some of us may feel this when we send our kids to school Monday morning so we can get on with our wretched workday lives.

I wonder if any such thoughts were going on in the minds of parents in Columbine that weekend in April 1999 and in Newtown, that weekend in Dec 2012. The week prior to the shootings in Columbine High school and Sandy Hook elementary school that took away their precious kids.

As I see Aakash and his friends splashing and doing somersaults and generally playing the fool during a break between laps, I also think about signs of racial intolerance that are creeping up in America. While there are additional reasons now, racial segregation is back in the South, stifling progress of poor black and Latino kids in those parts. They’re calling it re-segregation, as if somehow that absolves our generation of the crime.

There is couple of news items from the last week or so in the mainstream press. But did not get nearly as much press as is essential, me thinks. Reading those, I found myself sputtering and had to let myself calm down a bit before I could write about it. Otherwise this post would have been just a bunch of random characters from angry keystrokes that would have made no sense.

As if to convince myself that I'm not a Nervous Nellie, I have been discussing with few close friends who are parents, and my fears don't seem to be unfounded.

I hope that with this post I am not making those friends lose sleep. Because that's not my intent. But who I really do hope is losing sleep, a lot of sleep, are those who perpetrate such crimes.

What is my personal solution for this? Cowardly flight away from this country is the easy (but it’s not easy either, right?) and soft option I can come up with. Countries of the third world (and I am convinced the term ‘third world’ was first coined to be partly pejorative) have problems of their own but there’s something deeply disturbing about these problems in the developed world (where drills to be prepared for a shoot-out are part of the school day, just as recess is). As if developed in developed world is supposed to convey only the state of the economy, and not a state of mind.

I do not see myself growing old here, too old at any rate. Because keep in mind also, that I'm just a skilled, bloody, non-immigrant Visa worker here. Someone who like many others sends his kid to school Monday morning with a hug and prayer on the lips, hoping that for kids across the country, life and progress is as normal as it ought to be.

Not-a-student in a student town: eulogy to Evanston

As on 15th April, I have been 8 years in this university town. Evanston, IL. Home of Northwestern. Not-a-student living in a student town. A family guy sharing sidewalk space with teens and twenty-something college students. Eight years is short of a full decade and so, short of a typical milestone. But there have been many surreal and funny moments and for that, a tribute to Evanston is already past due. 

{We actually moved to a suburb Wilmette close to a year back but still work in Evanston and still lean on its swimming and music programs. Not to mention for our favorite restaurants and oh, also, for our haircut with Fairuz:) Our address has changed but clearly, home and heart is still in Evanston.}

This was the town where we (Usha, Aakash and I) arrived as family to begin living our American dream. Where far, far away from the cocoon of parents/ grandparents/ uncles/ aunts/ friends/ domestic help/ cheap haircuts/ cheap car-service/ cheap root canal in Mumbai, Usha and I wrestled to forget and let go of those dependencies. Its also where, 8 years hence, we still remember and miss those same people and same things back home most acutely.

This is the place where new friendships were struck, old interests found an outlet, new passions were ignited.

Such as reading. Imagine a place where you can check out books (and latest titles at that) for absolutely free. Beats me why such a place would be called a library. It should be called heaven. EPL, or Evanston public library. The said heaven. We don't mind if we forget to return books on time; and sometimes  deliberately delay too when we find we've had too long of a punctual run. Feeling too guilty about enjoying such pleasures for free, we think of the fines as donation towards a wonderful establishment. EPL was the place where Usha hit her CPA books to re-start her career in the US. It is the place I hit books on days I feel jaded about corporate life.

Such as tennis. When I walk into the newly laid Northwestern tennis courts on Sheridan (purple floors no less), I feel like I’m about to play at the US open. If I listen really hard, I can even hear a grand slam buzz. In between play, I will sometimes catch the Northwestern tennis team blokes practising and such is the rapture of their play that you'd think you were witnessing a young Nadal or a young Djokovik killing the balls out there.

Evanston is where I've seen specialist mom-and-pop stores open and then close, sometimes more than two in the same location. One of which shut down because the co-owner was dying of cancer. Its also where I cringed on first seeing books sold “by the pound”. I know this is just the smaller bookstores trying to make a go of it against the larger chains but: is there no value to intellectual or literary merit? Is a large tome such as "Shantaram" any way better or more valuable than the small gem "451 Farenheit" by Ray Bradbury?

There have also been moments we will take to our grave.

There is this rehab center called Greenwood care on Chicago Ave, right next to the first apartment building we lived in. Its website says "we provide specialized care for the chronically mentally ill". Raymond park, the hub of summer activity when Aakash was younger, was also close by. During one of those numerous walks from home to Raymond park, Usha (with little Aakash in her arms) got stalked by one of the patients at the rehabilitation center: "I am (Mother) Mary and he (Aakash) is Jesus".  Hilarious to now think about it but not so funny back then. Truth be told, I was in splits when Usha, horrified, recounted the story to me. I may have suggested this stalker was channeling the spirit of someone from Mumbai but don't think that went down very well!

On Sheridan Ave, by the Northwestern campus, is one of widest sidewalks I've seen. Not to mention the Baptist church with stained glass windows as a stunning backdrop. I will sometimes take a post-lunch walk to clear my head and let young Evanston recharge me. On a balmy April afternoon, at the start of the academic year, a guide is conducting a tour for new students and parents. "This is the arch, a campus landmark ..." My feet take control and I inadvertently, and illicitly, join the tour. I feel like a bit of a charlatan but someone who's bluffed age for some paces and a few minutes. Coming close to the Tech building, the knowing glances and friendly overtures from fellow tour takers is starting to make me uncomfortable and I decide to fall off the tour. Remember the family guy sharing sidewalk space bit? Shame. But oh, so refreshing.

Speaking of weekday walks, glory be to those fine Evanston establishments that have pandered to my sweet tooth and afternoon cravings. Yes, the jackfruit with tapioca smoothie at Joy Yee’s, Salted caramel milkshake at Edzo’s, Oreo milkshake at Potbelly. (Sorry Usha, you don’t know the half of it!) And glory be to lovely Lake Michigan where we have spent entire summer days hanging out: early morning walk by the lake, lunch by the lake, Frisbee and baddy by the lake, nap by the lake – you get the picture.   

Then there is the Chinese student I got acquainted with and purchased a bedroom dresser from. He was illegally well-off for a student, drove a beamer and was convinced that parking tickets were the biggest source of revenue for the city of Evanston. He himself had been issued 19 tickets in his 3 years of which he had contested a dozen and even won a few. By the way, that dresser was a fabulous piece of furniture (perfect combination of form and function) and Usha speaks fondly of it even now. Brownie points earned cheap in Evanston.    

Usha and I are certified foodies and no story has inspired us more than Grant Achatz, the owner of Alinea and award-winning chef; regular guy in all respects except he had tongue cancer. A chef with tongue cancer. Chew on that. But point is: we were tickled pink to find that Achatz honed his craft in a small restaurant on a leafy avenue in Evanston (Trio on Hinman). Just a few blocks from our apartment building and a stone's throw away from my workplace. And then, what about Tina Fey who - before her SNL and 30 Rock fame - used to fold towels and worked the front desk at McGaw Y in Evanston. 

This is the place where Aakash is nearing the first decade of his life, this is the place where I have lived the prime decade (the 30s) of my working life. This is the place where the young and old worlds collide: rich retirees in their lakeside properties (or retirement homes) and youngsters starting out life on campus.

I've never really studied at Northwestern but I've always yearned to wear the university purple colors. Too chicken to do an exec Kellogg MBA and take on a student loan at this age, I may yet do a one-off elective course on campus; something silly like Excel modeling or Finance for Engineer MBAs. As if, when I wear the university colors after that, I can do so with a bit more pride and bit less guilt.

In my most dreamy moments, I imagine myself writing a book. Not even something that gets published or sold, just streams of consciousness recording my thoughts. And in those deluded moments when I think of a subject/ theme to expand into a book, Bombay is what comes first to mind. My Bombay could maybe cover a book and a half easy I figure. Measured in those terms, a place dear to you is something you could fill a book with, right? By that token, Evanston is getting really close. If nothing else, I could have my work sold at the book by pound store, eh?

There are times when a post will come out of you like a spasm. Not this one. It was as if I was deliberately slowing down the writing process. That it was more fun to rewind all the wonderful memories and lovingly sift and pick through them. That writing was not the means but just the end and so, could, very well wait. 

Food, family and tradition

There's no food like home-cooked food. And the only thing better? Home-cooked dessert!

This weekend was homage to Usha, with dad and son taking over the kitchen [I'd have said taken over 'completely' since she logs in rarely, but her friends here would likely call my bluff:)].

So that the homage was really true to her, we took on some made-from-scratch exotica. Banana bread, guacamole, Mexican rice, and mango pie. Whew. Also, Mmmmmm.

Our lady loves to cook as if from a blank canvas, puts out a great spread on the table, and enjoys having friends and family around that table. How she does this, while juggling work and school schedule, is anybody's guess. I have a theory though.

When you have woken up to the 530AM grind and aroma of fresh coffee beans every single morning growing up; heard stories from your dad about how he and Matunga chummery friends made 100s of 'koykatais' (Tamil 'modak') every month for temple devotees; when you have a grandmom of almost regal bearing and means who just loved to make 'murukkus' for wedding events; whether you realize it or not, those are the kind of things that can influence and even define you.

We are slave to our genes but sometimes those same genes and traditions can make us shine. Some years back, Usha happily put her life on hold for several months and traveled back home to be with my mom for what turned out to be the last days of her life. Those humble, traditional rasam and curry meals hand-cooked for my mom are memories that Usha may never be able to shake off. Or want to. She at least has the memory of those last shared meals to cherish. The last thing mom ever whispered to me was unrealized: I want to be able to see you again.

Growing up for me, it was always about the food and ghee treats. Even if it was as a festival or a pooja offering. Especially if it was as a festival or a pooja offering. More than the sanctity of the occasion, it was the treats that we hankered for. As if, not drooling for and not wolfing down the food was in fact the biggest rebuke to God. Other than shared moments enjoying the food, I wish I could report more shared moments making the food. Alas. But you buckle up, and move on --

Who knows, maybe this weekend will be the start of a new tradition?

Road trip from the back seat

Technically, I should not be taking credit for this. Till I set him up with his own blog (I’m not lazy, it’s just my Mr. Hyde persona:), I guess it can belong here! This is Aakash’ version of some of the travels during our road trip in November. Truth be told, as we grapple with a rough-weather start to the new year, I also just selfishly needed to remember and be reminded of that fun week. And now, I’m thinking fondly of the English (and Hindi, not so much Marathi:) essays we had to write in school. 

Kentucky Derby

When it was a windy, chilly Wednesday afternoon, I was going to travel to the Kentucky Derby.  Me and my family had a lot of luggage to carry so I had to help them.  After we all got settled, I started playing my favorite game called Jetpack Joyride.  Finally we had reached the Kentucky Derby.  We hurried out of the car because we were absolutely excited to go to the Kentucky Derby.  The tour guide took us as fast as she could because the race was starting in a few minutes.  There was a humongous TV screen so we could see the race even when the horses weren't near us.  The horses were running so fast that I thought they were running at a 100 miles per hour.  They had long, skinny legs which allowed them to run fast.  When they turned I could see the horses racing.  "Go Black!" I shouted.  The black horse soon got raced just when I had a feeling he would win.  Now the red horse was in the lead.  It pumped its legs so fast that it won.  It was still an exciting experience.  After the race ended the tour guide took us back inside the museum.  I saw a video game where you had to push the handle or press the green light to go fast.  "Can I play that game?"  I questioned my mom.  "Yes, you can", my mom answered.  I ran without stopping towards the game because I was so excited to begin playing.  I pushed the handlebar so hard that I won the game.  After that, I saw the Triple crown trophy.  The horse that wins the three major races in a year will get the triple crown trophy.  I also saw names of the winners that got the triple crown trophy written in golden lettering.

You should make time to go to the Kentucky Derby !

Mammoth Caves

"When are we going to Mammoth Caves ?" I asked my mom.  "As soon as you finish your breakfast" my mom answered.  After I completed my breakfast, me and my family hurried out the door of the hotel and into the car.  After the twenty minute drive we arrived at Mammoth Caves !  "We are at Mammoth Caves!" I yelled out loud.  We got out and locked the car.  We ran inside the building where you book tickets because we were feeling cold.  It was finally time to go to the 1st of the 2 tours.  The tour is called Frozen Niagara.  We went inside the freaky, eerie cave.  The ranger took us inside the cave and I stood still like a statue because I was extremely spooked out.  The cave was way smaller than I expected.  It was almost as wet as the ocean.  There were millions of stalactites growing from the top and millions of Stalagmites growing from the bottom of the cave.  By that time the cave was half the size bigger than my mom.  Stalactites was so big that it was almost from the top to the bottom of the cave.  Five minutes had passed by and the ranger turned off all the lights.  It was pitch dark so I got to see one of my loom brackets glow so well that I could almost see my parents faces in the darkness.  When the first tour was done, we were about to go home.  "Can I go to the 2 hour, 2 mile Historic tour?" I questioned my mother.  "We will" my mom replied.  We went in another part of the disconnected 400 mile cave.  There is something called fat man's misery and tall man's misery.  Fat man's misery is when a fat person has to squeeze into as much as a giraffe's neck.  Tall man's misery is when a tall man has to bend to his toes.  My mom and dad had to duck a lot and sometimes even squeeze.  I only had to duck because I'm way thinner than my parents.  Go to Mammoth Caves right now! 

Rock city and Ruby falls

One cool Friday afternoon in Chattanooga, Tennessee the places me and my family went we're called Rock City and Ruby Falls.  First we went to Rock City.  After we reached Rock City, I slammed the car door.  "Don't do that" said my mom.  "I won't" I said.  Off we went to Rock City to enjoy.  Before we went to Rock City, we had to book tickets.  We booked tickets and went inside.  The place had so many amazing things to see.  There were different rock pathways with decorated Christmas lighting.  There were no roads without at least one wreath.  There was a small river underneath the swinging bridge that me and my family were standing on.  The small river had hard ice under it because the days in Chattanooga were freezing.  The swinging bridge swayed and swayed but I reached the other end.  Mom and Dad were taking a lot of time because they were busy taking photographs.  There were also fairy tale stories which were in rainbow colors and the lighting in that area made my teeth, eyes and shirt look like a ghost's.  after that we reached Ruby Falls.  Ruby Falls is named after Lambert's wife Ruby.  We had to go in a cave just like Mammoth caves.  There was a long way till we reached Ruby Falls.  The cave was covered with stalactites and stalagmites also like the Mammoth Caves.  Soon we approached Ruby Falls.  At first I couldn't see the waterfall because it was dark but as soon as the lights were switched on, I could see Ruby Falls in the color sky blue. They changed the color to red.  The red was shining bright so I could see it as clear as possible.  Tennessee is the place to be!