One of the embarrassing moments I face, mostly at social events, is when someone walks up to me and asks, “So uncle, how do you pass your time?” To say, “Oh me? I wish there were more hours to a day,” is a spot invitation to be branded snobbish. If I begin, “The thing is this…,” he will guess the fellow doesn’t have much to say, but is trying to cook up something. On the other hand, if I venture, “Well, I browse through my computer for the day’s news, mail…, ” the man is sure to murmur, “Big deal. We too do all these in day, plus slog eight hours in office.” Gradually you begin to wonder if you are at all really busy, or you just think you are. To set at rest this complacency I did a sample check the other day - from morning-coffee till breakfast. Maybe it is a sweet nothing, but here is the recap.
After a morning walk, the laptop in front and the aromatic hot Columbian coffee by the side (in the American-size mug till in USA, courtesy my son’s intervention), I am all set to update myself with the goings-on. At national level, it is demonetisation, open-arms reception by public despite inconvenience, Opposition’s vain bid to cash in, further reforms in the pipeline… At State levels, the sad demise of Jayalalitha, elevation of Sasikala to top party post, saashtang namaskar becoming a permanent stay in Tamil Nadu politics; Mamta Banerjee’s bitter attack of Centre for not informing her of Army’s routine toll-check, her efforts to mobilise Opposition to decry demonetisation, and…
A message pops up on the screen to announce the arrival of a fresh email. It is from my brother’s son Arvind, a happy father sharing the feat of his four-year old son. There was a telescope up for grab at the Memphis Astronomical Society. The child who writes best on what he would do if he got it would receive it. His son submitted one and was not successful. But he did receive a commendation letter from the Society which hinted that he missed it by a whisker.
When I read this aloud to Aunty, busy clearing her own backlog of 107 mails, she was less keen initially, but when she heard the name Darsh, she jumped, “Read it for me again,” which I did. That only acted as a lead for her to take on. “Remember, last month, Anand (Arvind’s elder brother) shared with us the breakthrough his son and classmate had made on Robotics?” Yes, in a “Catch’em Young” programme, in the august presence of President Obama in Washington DC, the boys made a joint presentation in the same manner as Naveen Kashyap and Sajan compere our SFV functions - Naveen one sentence and Sajan the other.
As is wont, that steered our conversation to other children and grandchildren of my siblings. As of now my youngest sister’s son’s achievement steals the thunder. Years ago, he and his handful friends sold their start-up company to a giant firm for a three-digit million dollars (if my memory serves me right). But then records are created to be broken. Tendulkar overtook Bradman as the best batsman. Now his protege,Virat Kohli, is giving Sachin a run for his records. I therefore keep my fingers crossed for the next generation to surpass the milestone, as we just bask on their glory.
Another sibling’s grandson completed his graduation from Cambridge, and is now doing MBA from Wharton. His younger sister is doing medicine from Oxford. In another case the grandson is doing medicine from Rhode Island (he did namedrop a few greats who passed out from there). He plans to specialise in Orthopaedics. By norm, with due respect to those practising these disciplines, Ortho, dentistry are among lower options in India. So when I questioned him on the choice, he said: “Sports activities are an integral part of Americans, and Ortho is a lucrative practice, as I had personal knowledge when I had to consult one,” he clarified. His sister is doing Microbiology (doctorate?) from an Ivy League university. (For the uninitiated, Ivy League, is the collective name given to a select best universities of the East Coast.) In yet another instance, the grandson is pursuing Applied Physics from the University of California, Irvine. The other grandchildren are in their Nursery to the 9th grade, including one whom the school identified as a gifted child, and had him attend the 6th grade maths class while studying in the 4th.
In the midst we received the customary call from our younger son in California, while driving to office. He is slated to come to Phoenix for a family Reunion. His son, my third grandson, Rishi, is all enthusiastic on two counts - at the prospect of meeting his cousins here, and of not having to enact his role in his school-play scheduled for Christmas eve. “But why? He has won several accolades in recitation, one-act play and the like.” We wondered. Anyway, the teacher was alerted to arrange for a replacement. Instead she advanced the date of the play, with Rishi very much in it. “But why so much resistance this time?” we insisted. “He is playing a side kick to the villain.”
Haan ji, mein ki kya, naashta tayaar, I hear Aunty’s voice, imitating our Delhi neighbour Sonu’s mummy’s call from kitchen to her hubby.
V V Sundaram
Maple 3195
22 Dec 2016
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