The
stay in Philadelphia was pleasant. Every evening Shankar would join
us after office hours, and we would take a short walk by the
Schuylkill river that the University of Pennsylvania and Wharton
have the privilege to be facing from the other side. What a prompting
for the students to be studious. Shankar would then take us to select
restaurants for dinner. On one evening his office staff with families
hosted dinner for us.
Now
it was time to pack and drive to Boston, next morning. We had already
organised with my Chitti (mother's youngest sister), the oldest
family member who lives with her daughter in New Jersey, that we
would stop by for just an hour. We had to reach Boston airport in
time to receive Sunita arriving from Phoenix.
An
early kickstart makes the day
easier. So we planned our breakfast at Dunkin Donuts, and coffee at
Starbucks on the way. That gave us some relief from the seven-hour
drive. Occasional detours marked this leg of the drive thanks either
to our taking a turn a little early or late. It caused an hour delay.
During the drive we had planned that each one of us would select ten
songs of their choice, and these would be played. This was said
easier than done. The boys had their way for most part.
The
delay in reaching New Jersey however took a back seat when we saw a
beaming, restless, Chitti walking to and fro at the front yard,
guessing each incoming vehicle to be ours. She sprang a surprise by
roping in the extended family members from New Jersey and New York,
15 in all. It was fun. We ended up staying more than double the
planned time – the delayed arrival aside.
She
is the senior most member of my family, on the wrong side of 80s.
Once again she asserted, and rightly, that as a child she took care
of me more than my mother. “Except during one Kalpathy Car
festival,” I reminded her. “You lost me in the crowd when you
were busy at
a bangles shop.” Yes, after about fifteen minutes of anxious
moments she spotted afar a policeman carrying, not pleasurably, a
well-fed sobbing lad on his shoulder for the owner from the crowd to
spot. Yes, it was me. She rushed and grabbed me even before the
constable could verify her credentials. One the way she bought me
‘laali mittai, a white and red Signal-toothpaste-like rubbery
sweetmeat which the vendor pulls from a rod. As I was enjoying it,
she whispered into my ears, “If you wish, I can get you one more,
but don't tell your father of the incident, okay?” A good bargain.
In
Boston we were part of a well-attended engagement ceremony of
my d-i-l’s cousin from Bangalore. She had just completed her higher
studies in the US where she also gave consent to her senior to be his
partner for life - also a Bangalorean. A made for each other
couple-to-be.
If
Philadelphia witnessed the declaration of Independence, the events
leading to that, the independence movement, began in Boston: Boston
Tea Party (no taxation without representation) where the locals
dumped from the ship several hundred sacks of tea into the sea in
protest against Great Britain's levy of tax on tea. Then followed the
Boston Massacre, and a host of other incidents culminating into
Independence.
All
work and no play is no good. So we squeezed time to watch Oceans, a
3D documentary by BBC. Except for the two boys and their cousin, most
of us were dozing off, some could even be heard snoring. The show at
the planetarium, From a Dream to Reality, by NASA enlisted more such
members to the fraternity. For the Duck Tour, an amphibian drive on
road and river in the same vehicle, personally I struggled to stay
awake as my Sambandhi Ganesan struggled to stay clear from my head
resting on his shoulder.
(Next:
Meeting boss after years)
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