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.