Thursday, January 31, 2019
Bombay
Meeting Visiting Cousins from Canada and a Dental Appointment
Namaste from Bombay!
I had hoped for an event-free day--and I got it! Well, almost. After the hectic activity of yesterday, I wanted to do nothing more than catch up quietly at home with my To-Do List.
Up at 7.00 (because I'd had a troubled night from over-eating the previous day!), I eased gently into my day. Blogging, reading Twitter, responding to email...before I knew it, it was time for brekkie (muesli and coffee) while I watched a new movie The Hillside Strangler--however, it has reached a stage when it is a tad too gruesome for me...so I shall be abandoning it.
Back to the drawing-board, I continued reading and re-viewing my memoir manuscript which my new young publisher wants me to turn in soon. Chapter after chapter, I went through it, until at 11.00 am, I got a call from Dad to tell me that my cousin Betty from Toronto, Canada, and her husband Toby would be visiting him in half an hour together with Betty's sister, Zita. Dad asked if I wanted to see them too. I groaned. I had really hoped to get so much work done...and I had really hoped for nothing on my plate today...and I had hoped I could work undisturbed till 3.00 pm when I would need to leave for my dental appointment.
But then I figured that if I did not see Betty and Toby today, who knows when I will see them next. So, I put my work aside and made time for family. I reached Dad's place at 11.30 am (as that was when he expected them to get there), but, needless to say, with Bombay's traffic being what it is, they only arrived at 12.35! My time with Dad was not entirely wasted, however, as I was able to read him all the coverage attached to the death of George Fernandes, who was known as 'George the Giant Killer'. Fernandes, a Manglorean Socialist politician, who acquired national status when he defied Indira Gandhi during her obnoxious Emergency, is an iconic figure in Indian Catholic circles. Because Dad can only really now read the headlines, he wanted me to read the eulogies that had poured in for Fernandes on the front page of every newspaper with even vaster coverage inside. I also read the comments of author Nayantara Sagal with regards to Bollywood and its refusal to stand by its own--as in the case of the controversy that has dogged the actor Naseeruddin Shah. So that was how we all passed time (Russel getting more inpatient for their arrival with every passing minute), until they finally made an appearance,
We spent the next hour together as I caught up with some of my cousins on my Dad's side. The Canadian couple began their travels in Sri Lanka where they attended a wedding and then made their way to Bombay. Tomorrow they are off to Goa. My cousin Zita, on the other hand, has just returned from two months in Australia where she visited Sidney, Melbourne, Canberra and Adelaide, and was full of her accounts of other cousins now scattered as far away as the Antipodes! It is interesting how the tentacles of the D'Souza family have spanned the countries of the British Commonwealth--from Canada to Australia.
When they left to visit other Bandra-based cousins (and there are a ton of them!), I left too, Back home, despite Dad's invitation that I stay for lunch, I declined as I had to return to his place again, two hours later, as he insisted on accompanying me on my dental visit. I have reached a point when I no longer refuse Dad's offers to accompany me as I realize that it gives him great pleasure to do so and that he is very proud to undertake the task of escorting me! Lunch was simple: a cup of soup, two slices of toast that I turned into open sandwiches with cheddar cheese, pickles, blue cheese and figs.
Then, I got back to work and worked steadily for another hour before I had to leave for my dental appointment.
The said dental appointment was at the dental practice of a dentist that my family has been using for four generations: Dr. Kher at Khar! My grandmother Valerie used to go to the current dentist's father (whom we refer to as Dr. Kher Senior). My Mum, Dad, Russel and I had all seen him, over the years. When he got too old to manage the practice (which was run from a tiny place on the edge of Bandra-Khar), he passed it on to his son, Dr. Udatta Kher who is US-trained. Chriselle saw this dentist before she moved to the US--which makes it four generations of the same family using the same dental practice!
Well, time and prosperity have left their mark and I was stunned to find that the practice has moved to a fancy place on Linking Road to a glass and chrome office that sparkles and could easily be located anywhere in the US! it is swanky, spiffy, cool (air-conditioned), clean and very friendly. I was in for a routine cleaning as I had promised my dental hygienist in the US, Mary, whom I have been seeing every six months routinely for the past twenty years, that I would see a dentist in Bombay after six months for a cleaning. So there I was!
The cleaning, I was told, would not be done by Dr. Udatta Kher but by another dentist named Dr. Sudha Shenoy. Fair enough! Well, Dr. Sudha Shenoy has a beautiful voice and sings with the Stop Gaps Choir (whose Director Afred D'Souza I will be interviewing on Sunday!). She was a pure delight and chatting with her before I finally got into my examination chair was sheer fun. Sudha took a look at my teeth and asked, "Are you sure you last saw your dentist six months ago?" I said I had seen Mary in July (just before I had left for China). Suds told me that there was nothing she needed to do as my teeth were immaculate! Boy, was I chuffed! She did a cavity check and I got a clean bill of health there too. However, she found some issues associated with recession which she discussed with me. She took pictures and told me to actually consult with my American dentist, Dr. Paul Irapolli. She said that if she got the green light from him, she could go ahead and do very slight preventive work on my teeth to make sure there is no enamel erosion in the future from my own over-zealous brushing!. For all this, examination and consultation, she did not charge me a paise! Only in India, kids, only in India!
I was glowing when I left her office. Dad was surprised to see me emerge in just twenty minutes. He had the chance to visit with Sudha who had actually attended to my Mum. She remembered my Dad and Mum very well indeed. She also gave us a full tour of the new premises of which the entire team is very proud--yes, they are now a team of 5 dentists, each of whom specializes in a different aspect of dentistry from surgery to orthodontics to implants (which Dad is now seriously considering as the Reserve Bank's medical policy for retirees now covers the procedures entirely). How fabulous! What a lovely visit it turned out to be!
We returned together to Dad's place as he needed me to help him complete a letter he had drafted with regards to family banking issues. I also visited with Russel for a little while and then I returned home. I told Dad that as I had lost so much working time today, I would not be attending Mass with him. I would spend the rest of the evening at work. He understood completely.
Back home, I brewed a pot of tea and had it with a few potato crisps and a cupcake as I watched Couples Come Dine With Me--back to mindless TV again. Then, I set to work and continued reading through two chapters of mu manuscript before I took a call from Chriselle. A little later, I stopped for dinner--another cup of soup and a cold roasted tongue sandwich--the tongue was a gift from my friend Marianel--it is sheer deliciousness!
I had fresh pomelo for dessert as I continued watching Roma--I had started a few weeks ago with Shahnaz but only finished it today. It is the first Netflix film that has been nominated for 10 Oscar awards! Made entirely in black and white and in Spanish (it has English sub-titles), it is based on the political upheavals of Mexico City in the early 1970s and deals with racial disparities, rebel groups, and the attachment of domestic staff to their wealthy white employers. I found it extremely slow (some might say lyrical) but the last hour has such powerful segments that it will leave you reeling. A great feat of film-making towards the end.
That was it. A not-too-eventful day...but then a not fully productive one either. I will have to continue to work steadily tomorrow until I leave to accompany Dad to his ophthalmologist for his follow-up appointment--about which we both have deep dread. Please keep him in your prayers.
Until tomorrow...
Thursday, January 31, 2019
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
A Packed Day--An Interview Plus Lunch, Tea and Dinner with Friends
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
Bombay
A Packed Day--An Interview Plus Lunch, Tea and Dinner with Friends
Namaste from Bombay!
Whew! Once in a way I have the kind of day that literally leaves me breathless. This was such a one.
Up to blog, read Twitter and catch up with my email messages, I did not waste much time. I had a fairly big breakfast--muesli packed with a larger apple and two figs--plus coffee--as I knew that I'd be having a late-ish lunch. Right after breakfast, my friend Delyse called from Connecticut--we had a lovely long chat and catch up. She told me that she had been reading my blog posts and that her sister Carol had once been a private secretary to theater actor Roger Pereira whom I had interviewed--apparently she worked for Roger when he was at Shilpi Advertising Agency. I told her that I keep running into Roger and I would ask if he remembered Carol! I also used Google maps to find the location of the place I had to go to, for my first appointment--an interview with the stage thespian Sabira Merchant at her home at Mount Pleasant Road. It is a part of the city with which I am not familiar--hence the need to find directions.
I had a shower, dressed and left my place by about 11.00 am for my 12.30 appointment with her. On the bus, I got to the station where I needed to buy my monthly first class pass--as I have not used the train for a long time. That done, I hoped into the ladies first class compartment of the suburban train and got off at Bombay Central from where I hopped into a cab. The driver was extremely surly and did not want to take me to my destination for some reason. Everything changed when he realized that my destination was right across the street from Varsha--the residence of Maharashtra's Chief Minister, Fadnavis! Then his attitude became sweetness itself!
An Interview with Sabira Merchant:
I was amazed and delighted to discover that Sabira Merchant remembered me from my having interviewed her more than 30 years ago for one of my magazine columns!!!! As soon as I walked into her gorgeous, two-storied, palatial duplex home, decorated as in a magazine, she greeted me and said, "Have we not met sometime earlier?" She said that I reminded her of a private secretary she had once had--Wilma Rego. And I told her that it was Wilma who had organized my interview with her, thirty years ago! Honestly, I am amazed by the many different connections I have been encountering in Bombay.
It was delightful to speak with Sabira who has acted on the Bombay stage since 1961 and is still at it. I remember her playing Blanche duBois in A Streetcar Named Desire--the play in which she so nailed the role that I really did not wish to see anyone else in that play again (until I saw Gillian Anderson, two years ago, in a National Theater, London, production in which she simply floored me). Anyway, Sabira talked about her entry into theater at a time when Muslim women would never have dreamed of being on stage, about asking and getting approval not just from her husband plus her mother-in-law, about taking on major roles with zero acting training, about learning on the job from some of the finest stage directors Bombay had produced (Pearl Padamsee, Alyque Padamsee, Adi Marzban), etc. She talked about the Golden Age of English language theater which has passed as the thespians that made it so are fast disappearing--Hosi Vasunia, Alyque Padamsee, Burjor Patel, Pesi Khandalawala. She was eloquent and very patient with me and gave me a ton of very valuable information that was factual as well as anecdotal. I stayed with her for about two hours and then took my leave.
Lunch with a Fulbright Colleague:
My next port of call was the library of the University of Bombay where I had a luncheon appointment with Abigail McGowan who has just arrived in Bombay to take on her Fulbright assignment. Abby is a professor at the University of New Hampshire and an old hand at carrying out research in India which she absolutely adores and where she has been making trips for the past 25 years. She first arrived in India as an undergrad student to study at Ferguson College in Pune and since she works on Indian crafts, crafts production, especially textiles, she is working with one of India's oldest interior design companies called Kamdar which is based in Churchgate for her Fulbright project.
As it turns out, Abby has found an apartment on Pali Hill, not far from me at all. She has arrived in Bombay with her husband, 5-year old son and her 15-year old nephew who are both studying at the American School at the Bandra-Kurla complex. I found her a very stimulating companion and good fun too as we ate lunch at The Pantry Cafe at Kala Ghoda as my favorite soup and salad buffet place at Copper Chimney had a 50 minute wait today! It seems everyone has discovered my gastronomic secret! I ordered an absolutely gorgeous salad made with baby arugula leaves (my favorite!), dried figs, goat cheese and blue cheese, toasted almonds and a fabulous vinaigrette served with a toast point--really the most perfect salad you can imagine. It cost me Rs. 400 but it was worth every paise! Abby had a rice and quinoa bowl with lentils and some chicken which was also good (as I had a small taste). I did not want to eat too much because less than an hour later, I had an appointment to meet my friend Margaret for Tea!
It was while I was finishing lunch with Abby that I got a call from a friend called Narain telling me that my missing business cards (sent for me by Llew through my friend Leslie) had been found! They had been sent by mistake to someone called Ravi who had found these strange items and wondered what to do with them! Narain asked if I could pick them up from his office and since his office building was right across the Oval Maidan, only ten minutes away, I told him I would walk across and pick them up before I set out to see Margaret.
A Wild Goose Chase:
But in the end, my expedition turned out to be a wild goose chase because those business cards were not mine--but belonged to someone else! Somewhere my business cards have been lost in transit--Leslie can't find them at home in Westport, Connecticut, and no one in Bombay seems to know where they are. Oh well...I need them pretty urgently as I have been giving them out like peanuts, thanks to the many meetings and official conferences and readings that I have been attending. We'll now have to find some other way to get them across unless I simply print out more cards locally.
Off to See Margaret at Kailash Parbat:
I had wanted to take a cab to the end of Colaba Causeway where my appointment with Margaret was scheduled. As it turned out, Narain was leaving the office and heading in the same direction and gave me a ride to the exact spot--Kailash Parbat--the famous chaat restaurant, where Margaret was clearly interested in eating bhel puri! She is from Vancouver, Canada, and is visiting Bombay briefly as part of her vast travels in India and Australia over two months. I had met her a couple of weeks ago in Chennai where she too had attended the International Anglo-Indian Reunion and had told me that she was headed for Bombay where she hoped we could meet again.
Margaret was already inside when I got there at 4.00 pm and we proceeded to order her desired bhel puri and dahi batata puri for me--which I had with a sweet lassi. I still had a dinner party to attend--so I hoped to stay light. Margaret had dessert (malai rabri) which I avoided as I was simply too full. It was grand to see her again and have quiet private time together. We have tons in common--apart from being an Anglo-Indian who is familiar with my own research work, she is also a freelance travel writer and makes a retired living publishing travel articles in various global periodicals. Margaret is a brilliant writer and an even better editor and has edited a couple of volumes for our mutual friend Blair Williams' series of CTR publications. She is single, in her late 70s and travels all over the world alone--a true inspiration to me!
We strolled down at leisure through Colaba Causeway where, like me, she passed often to take pictures with a proper camera (like me!), not an I-Phone! I pointed out Kulsum Terrace where theater history has been made and she pointed out the many gorgeous homes in the area in which she lived as her father was a very senior officer in the Indian Railways. We both took pictures of Cafe Leopold where I told her about my personal family history! She loved the story! At Regal Cinema, we paused to take a selfie together and then we parted.
Margaret intended to get to the Victorian Terminus to shoot a few pictures of its beautifully illuminated facade. I needed to cross the Oval Maidan again for my dinner appointment. But I had about an hour to kill. She suggested I go to the Jehangir Art Gallery as some of the current exhibitions are very good, she said. So I hopped into her cab and got off about 200 meters ahead.
Surveying the Exhibitions at the Jehangir Art Gallery:
Although I have passed the Jehangir Art Gallery several times since my arrival in Bombay, I have not gone inside so far. So, I was happy to survey its offerings. What first caught my eye was an exhibition of color photographs by Sanjeev Bhagwat called Prague and Beyond. It was fabulous as it took me back to my own travels in Eastern Europe with Llew and Chriselle at least 15 years ago. Using his lens, Sanjeev has captured some of the most beloved corners of the city--from the Karlovy Most (Charles Bridge) to St. Vitus Cathedral, from the banks of the Vltava River that I remember so well to the arched entrances of Old Town with the wonderful facades of the Art Deco buildings thrown in for good measure. It was a grand exhibition. In addition, he had pictures taken in Berlin (several of the Berliner Dom--the Cathedral) which I have also combed--so overall, it was a show that filled me with nostalgia. I also had a chance to speak with the photographer who is an architect in Bombay by profession (which explains why so many of his shots were architectural--something with which I, with my great love for architecture, could fully identify!). Such a lovely show indeed!
Later, with dusk falling around me, I took some great shots of Elpinstone College, across the road. This gallery used to be my stomping ground when I was an undergrad student across the road and it was where my art education began. How much I owe to this space!
Just before I left for my last appointment of the day, I nipped across the street into Westside Department Store where I browsed to kill time and used the facilities.
Dinner at the Residence of Gerson da Cunha:
Finally, I had arrived at the last item on my day's agenda: A dinner party at the home of retired advertising man and theater thespian Gerson da Cunha whom I'd had the pleasure of interviewing a few weeks ago. Gerson and I hit it off so well and discovered so many connections! His great-uncle Jose Gerson da Cunha (after whom he was named) was a prolific 19th century writer and historian while being a full-fledged physician and linguist--he spoke Portuguese, Konkani, Marathi and English and wrote in all those languages. My colleague and friend from the University of Lisbon, Portugal, Filipa Vincente, has been working on Jose's writing and presented me with a chapter on his work for my book on Goa. I met Filipa, for the first time, in Goa, last week, when she had told me that she was looking forward to giving a talk on Jose at the Bombay Museum--to which Gerson had also invited me, several weeks ago. Following the talk, the next day, Gerson was hosting a dinner at his home for Filipa and her family (husband Diogo and 13-year old daughter Magdalena who had accompanied her to India). Sadly, yesterday, I had to skip the talk (to which I had been looking forward for a long time) as I had the funeral of Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias to attend. I was glad to catch Filipa again at the dinner party.
And what a lovely dinner party it was! For one thing, the setting was glorious: Gerson and Uma da Cunha's sprawling Churchgate flat overlooking the Oval Maidan is filled tastefully with the most wonderful Indian and international antiques, paintings, prints, artifacts, etc. Secondly, the company was most interesting. There was Fr. Myron Pereira, a Jesuit priest, who once headed the Xavier Institute of Communications and who now, after retirement, had taken to writing Fiction--last year, he published two novels and a collection of short stories that he told me he had been writing for years! There was also the renowned pianist Carmen Miranda (who is also on my list of people to interview!) whose husband Francis is related to Gerson. Next, a very old friend of mine arrived: retired Prof. Marguerita Colaco who has been associated with the English Department at Sophia College for 52 years! After retiring from the English Department, she went on to found the School of Communication Studies where she still teaches as an adjunct. She came with her sister Fatima who retired from Air-India. Also present was Monica Correa, wife of the late architect Charles Correa who acquired international renown for his work including a building that is part of the Ismaeli Museum in Toronto, Canada, that I had visited with Llew and our friends Sylvia and Tony Pinto when it had just opened. I told Monica how proud I was to find the work of her husband, a fellow-Indian, in Canada, and she told me that the building was actually his last work. However, he is also renowned for a hospital that he designed and built in Belem, just outside of Lisbon, on the banks of the Tagus River for which every Portuguese person knows him! And finally, in walked Roger Pereira! The same Roger Pereira about whom my friend Delyse had talked to me only that morning! Roger lives only a couple of buildings away and has been Gerson's colleague in advertising and in theater for over half a century. Naturally, I asked Roger about Carol, Delyse's sister and he remembered her warmly.
So, you can just imagine what a grand evening of stimulating conversation it was with some of the most notable Bombayites seated around the room with some of us from overseas being brought into the conversation in the most natural of ways. There was a Man Friday who took care of all our needs: I had beer with lovely nibbles--pita chips with hummus, little cheese and spinach tarts, lamb kebabs. We talked and talked and talked and never ran out of topics as the room was filled with artists and intellectuals who were all connected in one way or the other. I apologized that I missed Filipa's talk but, of course, she completely understood that I could not attend it. I presented Gerson with a copy of my book on Goa which carried Filipa's chapter on his great-uncle and which he said he would always treasure!
Dinner was simply splendid. I had tried to save room at lunch and tea but could not do justice to the vast array of food on the table--I have still to get used to the fact that a dinner party in India will have at least 12 items on the table! There was a vegetarian and a non-vegetarian side. I took a small helping of the famous Lamb Berry Pullao that was delivered to the da Cunha residence from Britannia Restaurant at Ballard Estate where it had acquired iconic status--it was fabulous! I also had Goa Sausages with Potatoes that Monica had picked up last week from Mapuca Market in Goa! Delish! How could I resist the salad of grated carrots, mint and pomegranate? Lovely! And I had mini dahi wadas that floated in creamy yoghurt. So good! I could not even taste the chicken curry and the dal that were also on the table as I was so stuffed and could barely have the chopped strawberries macerated in balsamic vinegar and served with cream for dessert! And just when I thought I could have nothing more, a tray of liqueurs was brought to the table and I found that I could not resist a shot of Drambuie! Truly, it was a dinner party to write home about.
But while most of the other guests were local, I had to get back to Bandra and when Fr. Myron got up to leave, so did I. He gallantly walked me to Churchgate station, two minutes away, where I hopped into a train (I took the ladies second class as I knew that the first class compartment would be empty--this was practically empty too but there was an armed sentry in the car--a new addition that the railways have introduced to fight crime against women!). At Bandra Station, I jumped into a rickshaw and got home in ten minutes.
Whew! What a day I'd had! Good job I have nothing on my calendar tomorrow except a dental appointment--I can catch up with so much!
Until tomorrow!
Bombay
A Packed Day--An Interview Plus Lunch, Tea and Dinner with Friends
Namaste from Bombay!
Whew! Once in a way I have the kind of day that literally leaves me breathless. This was such a one.
Up to blog, read Twitter and catch up with my email messages, I did not waste much time. I had a fairly big breakfast--muesli packed with a larger apple and two figs--plus coffee--as I knew that I'd be having a late-ish lunch. Right after breakfast, my friend Delyse called from Connecticut--we had a lovely long chat and catch up. She told me that she had been reading my blog posts and that her sister Carol had once been a private secretary to theater actor Roger Pereira whom I had interviewed--apparently she worked for Roger when he was at Shilpi Advertising Agency. I told her that I keep running into Roger and I would ask if he remembered Carol! I also used Google maps to find the location of the place I had to go to, for my first appointment--an interview with the stage thespian Sabira Merchant at her home at Mount Pleasant Road. It is a part of the city with which I am not familiar--hence the need to find directions.
I had a shower, dressed and left my place by about 11.00 am for my 12.30 appointment with her. On the bus, I got to the station where I needed to buy my monthly first class pass--as I have not used the train for a long time. That done, I hoped into the ladies first class compartment of the suburban train and got off at Bombay Central from where I hopped into a cab. The driver was extremely surly and did not want to take me to my destination for some reason. Everything changed when he realized that my destination was right across the street from Varsha--the residence of Maharashtra's Chief Minister, Fadnavis! Then his attitude became sweetness itself!
An Interview with Sabira Merchant:
I was amazed and delighted to discover that Sabira Merchant remembered me from my having interviewed her more than 30 years ago for one of my magazine columns!!!! As soon as I walked into her gorgeous, two-storied, palatial duplex home, decorated as in a magazine, she greeted me and said, "Have we not met sometime earlier?" She said that I reminded her of a private secretary she had once had--Wilma Rego. And I told her that it was Wilma who had organized my interview with her, thirty years ago! Honestly, I am amazed by the many different connections I have been encountering in Bombay.
It was delightful to speak with Sabira who has acted on the Bombay stage since 1961 and is still at it. I remember her playing Blanche duBois in A Streetcar Named Desire--the play in which she so nailed the role that I really did not wish to see anyone else in that play again (until I saw Gillian Anderson, two years ago, in a National Theater, London, production in which she simply floored me). Anyway, Sabira talked about her entry into theater at a time when Muslim women would never have dreamed of being on stage, about asking and getting approval not just from her husband plus her mother-in-law, about taking on major roles with zero acting training, about learning on the job from some of the finest stage directors Bombay had produced (Pearl Padamsee, Alyque Padamsee, Adi Marzban), etc. She talked about the Golden Age of English language theater which has passed as the thespians that made it so are fast disappearing--Hosi Vasunia, Alyque Padamsee, Burjor Patel, Pesi Khandalawala. She was eloquent and very patient with me and gave me a ton of very valuable information that was factual as well as anecdotal. I stayed with her for about two hours and then took my leave.
Lunch with a Fulbright Colleague:
My next port of call was the library of the University of Bombay where I had a luncheon appointment with Abigail McGowan who has just arrived in Bombay to take on her Fulbright assignment. Abby is a professor at the University of New Hampshire and an old hand at carrying out research in India which she absolutely adores and where she has been making trips for the past 25 years. She first arrived in India as an undergrad student to study at Ferguson College in Pune and since she works on Indian crafts, crafts production, especially textiles, she is working with one of India's oldest interior design companies called Kamdar which is based in Churchgate for her Fulbright project.
As it turns out, Abby has found an apartment on Pali Hill, not far from me at all. She has arrived in Bombay with her husband, 5-year old son and her 15-year old nephew who are both studying at the American School at the Bandra-Kurla complex. I found her a very stimulating companion and good fun too as we ate lunch at The Pantry Cafe at Kala Ghoda as my favorite soup and salad buffet place at Copper Chimney had a 50 minute wait today! It seems everyone has discovered my gastronomic secret! I ordered an absolutely gorgeous salad made with baby arugula leaves (my favorite!), dried figs, goat cheese and blue cheese, toasted almonds and a fabulous vinaigrette served with a toast point--really the most perfect salad you can imagine. It cost me Rs. 400 but it was worth every paise! Abby had a rice and quinoa bowl with lentils and some chicken which was also good (as I had a small taste). I did not want to eat too much because less than an hour later, I had an appointment to meet my friend Margaret for Tea!
It was while I was finishing lunch with Abby that I got a call from a friend called Narain telling me that my missing business cards (sent for me by Llew through my friend Leslie) had been found! They had been sent by mistake to someone called Ravi who had found these strange items and wondered what to do with them! Narain asked if I could pick them up from his office and since his office building was right across the Oval Maidan, only ten minutes away, I told him I would walk across and pick them up before I set out to see Margaret.
A Wild Goose Chase:
But in the end, my expedition turned out to be a wild goose chase because those business cards were not mine--but belonged to someone else! Somewhere my business cards have been lost in transit--Leslie can't find them at home in Westport, Connecticut, and no one in Bombay seems to know where they are. Oh well...I need them pretty urgently as I have been giving them out like peanuts, thanks to the many meetings and official conferences and readings that I have been attending. We'll now have to find some other way to get them across unless I simply print out more cards locally.
Off to See Margaret at Kailash Parbat:
I had wanted to take a cab to the end of Colaba Causeway where my appointment with Margaret was scheduled. As it turned out, Narain was leaving the office and heading in the same direction and gave me a ride to the exact spot--Kailash Parbat--the famous chaat restaurant, where Margaret was clearly interested in eating bhel puri! She is from Vancouver, Canada, and is visiting Bombay briefly as part of her vast travels in India and Australia over two months. I had met her a couple of weeks ago in Chennai where she too had attended the International Anglo-Indian Reunion and had told me that she was headed for Bombay where she hoped we could meet again.
Margaret was already inside when I got there at 4.00 pm and we proceeded to order her desired bhel puri and dahi batata puri for me--which I had with a sweet lassi. I still had a dinner party to attend--so I hoped to stay light. Margaret had dessert (malai rabri) which I avoided as I was simply too full. It was grand to see her again and have quiet private time together. We have tons in common--apart from being an Anglo-Indian who is familiar with my own research work, she is also a freelance travel writer and makes a retired living publishing travel articles in various global periodicals. Margaret is a brilliant writer and an even better editor and has edited a couple of volumes for our mutual friend Blair Williams' series of CTR publications. She is single, in her late 70s and travels all over the world alone--a true inspiration to me!
We strolled down at leisure through Colaba Causeway where, like me, she passed often to take pictures with a proper camera (like me!), not an I-Phone! I pointed out Kulsum Terrace where theater history has been made and she pointed out the many gorgeous homes in the area in which she lived as her father was a very senior officer in the Indian Railways. We both took pictures of Cafe Leopold where I told her about my personal family history! She loved the story! At Regal Cinema, we paused to take a selfie together and then we parted.
Margaret intended to get to the Victorian Terminus to shoot a few pictures of its beautifully illuminated facade. I needed to cross the Oval Maidan again for my dinner appointment. But I had about an hour to kill. She suggested I go to the Jehangir Art Gallery as some of the current exhibitions are very good, she said. So I hopped into her cab and got off about 200 meters ahead.
Surveying the Exhibitions at the Jehangir Art Gallery:
Although I have passed the Jehangir Art Gallery several times since my arrival in Bombay, I have not gone inside so far. So, I was happy to survey its offerings. What first caught my eye was an exhibition of color photographs by Sanjeev Bhagwat called Prague and Beyond. It was fabulous as it took me back to my own travels in Eastern Europe with Llew and Chriselle at least 15 years ago. Using his lens, Sanjeev has captured some of the most beloved corners of the city--from the Karlovy Most (Charles Bridge) to St. Vitus Cathedral, from the banks of the Vltava River that I remember so well to the arched entrances of Old Town with the wonderful facades of the Art Deco buildings thrown in for good measure. It was a grand exhibition. In addition, he had pictures taken in Berlin (several of the Berliner Dom--the Cathedral) which I have also combed--so overall, it was a show that filled me with nostalgia. I also had a chance to speak with the photographer who is an architect in Bombay by profession (which explains why so many of his shots were architectural--something with which I, with my great love for architecture, could fully identify!). Such a lovely show indeed!
Later, with dusk falling around me, I took some great shots of Elpinstone College, across the road. This gallery used to be my stomping ground when I was an undergrad student across the road and it was where my art education began. How much I owe to this space!
Just before I left for my last appointment of the day, I nipped across the street into Westside Department Store where I browsed to kill time and used the facilities.
Dinner at the Residence of Gerson da Cunha:
Finally, I had arrived at the last item on my day's agenda: A dinner party at the home of retired advertising man and theater thespian Gerson da Cunha whom I'd had the pleasure of interviewing a few weeks ago. Gerson and I hit it off so well and discovered so many connections! His great-uncle Jose Gerson da Cunha (after whom he was named) was a prolific 19th century writer and historian while being a full-fledged physician and linguist--he spoke Portuguese, Konkani, Marathi and English and wrote in all those languages. My colleague and friend from the University of Lisbon, Portugal, Filipa Vincente, has been working on Jose's writing and presented me with a chapter on his work for my book on Goa. I met Filipa, for the first time, in Goa, last week, when she had told me that she was looking forward to giving a talk on Jose at the Bombay Museum--to which Gerson had also invited me, several weeks ago. Following the talk, the next day, Gerson was hosting a dinner at his home for Filipa and her family (husband Diogo and 13-year old daughter Magdalena who had accompanied her to India). Sadly, yesterday, I had to skip the talk (to which I had been looking forward for a long time) as I had the funeral of Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias to attend. I was glad to catch Filipa again at the dinner party.
And what a lovely dinner party it was! For one thing, the setting was glorious: Gerson and Uma da Cunha's sprawling Churchgate flat overlooking the Oval Maidan is filled tastefully with the most wonderful Indian and international antiques, paintings, prints, artifacts, etc. Secondly, the company was most interesting. There was Fr. Myron Pereira, a Jesuit priest, who once headed the Xavier Institute of Communications and who now, after retirement, had taken to writing Fiction--last year, he published two novels and a collection of short stories that he told me he had been writing for years! There was also the renowned pianist Carmen Miranda (who is also on my list of people to interview!) whose husband Francis is related to Gerson. Next, a very old friend of mine arrived: retired Prof. Marguerita Colaco who has been associated with the English Department at Sophia College for 52 years! After retiring from the English Department, she went on to found the School of Communication Studies where she still teaches as an adjunct. She came with her sister Fatima who retired from Air-India. Also present was Monica Correa, wife of the late architect Charles Correa who acquired international renown for his work including a building that is part of the Ismaeli Museum in Toronto, Canada, that I had visited with Llew and our friends Sylvia and Tony Pinto when it had just opened. I told Monica how proud I was to find the work of her husband, a fellow-Indian, in Canada, and she told me that the building was actually his last work. However, he is also renowned for a hospital that he designed and built in Belem, just outside of Lisbon, on the banks of the Tagus River for which every Portuguese person knows him! And finally, in walked Roger Pereira! The same Roger Pereira about whom my friend Delyse had talked to me only that morning! Roger lives only a couple of buildings away and has been Gerson's colleague in advertising and in theater for over half a century. Naturally, I asked Roger about Carol, Delyse's sister and he remembered her warmly.
So, you can just imagine what a grand evening of stimulating conversation it was with some of the most notable Bombayites seated around the room with some of us from overseas being brought into the conversation in the most natural of ways. There was a Man Friday who took care of all our needs: I had beer with lovely nibbles--pita chips with hummus, little cheese and spinach tarts, lamb kebabs. We talked and talked and talked and never ran out of topics as the room was filled with artists and intellectuals who were all connected in one way or the other. I apologized that I missed Filipa's talk but, of course, she completely understood that I could not attend it. I presented Gerson with a copy of my book on Goa which carried Filipa's chapter on his great-uncle and which he said he would always treasure!
Dinner was simply splendid. I had tried to save room at lunch and tea but could not do justice to the vast array of food on the table--I have still to get used to the fact that a dinner party in India will have at least 12 items on the table! There was a vegetarian and a non-vegetarian side. I took a small helping of the famous Lamb Berry Pullao that was delivered to the da Cunha residence from Britannia Restaurant at Ballard Estate where it had acquired iconic status--it was fabulous! I also had Goa Sausages with Potatoes that Monica had picked up last week from Mapuca Market in Goa! Delish! How could I resist the salad of grated carrots, mint and pomegranate? Lovely! And I had mini dahi wadas that floated in creamy yoghurt. So good! I could not even taste the chicken curry and the dal that were also on the table as I was so stuffed and could barely have the chopped strawberries macerated in balsamic vinegar and served with cream for dessert! And just when I thought I could have nothing more, a tray of liqueurs was brought to the table and I found that I could not resist a shot of Drambuie! Truly, it was a dinner party to write home about.
But while most of the other guests were local, I had to get back to Bandra and when Fr. Myron got up to leave, so did I. He gallantly walked me to Churchgate station, two minutes away, where I hopped into a train (I took the ladies second class as I knew that the first class compartment would be empty--this was practically empty too but there was an armed sentry in the car--a new addition that the railways have introduced to fight crime against women!). At Bandra Station, I jumped into a rickshaw and got home in ten minutes.
Whew! What a day I'd had! Good job I have nothing on my calendar tomorrow except a dental appointment--I can catch up with so much!
Until tomorrow!
Tuesday, January 29, 2019
Bidding a Sad Farewell to an Indian Military Hero--RIP Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias
Tuesday, January 30, 2019
Bombay
Bidding a Sad Farewell to an Indian Military Hero--RIP Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias
Namaste from Bombay!
It was a sad day and another first for me: my first time attending a funeral at which the deceased is interred with full military honors. The funeral would occur in the late afternoon after I had spent most of the day re-reading and editing the manuscript of my non-fictional memoir and preparing it for submission to my new publisher.
But first things first: No, I did not go to the gym today and I am feeling pretty overwhelmed by the number of things I have to do before I leave for the funeral. So, a hasty breakfast of muesli and coffee later, I sat down to begin work on it. My To-Do List lengthened suddenly as I put down all the things I have to do in the next week or so--a week that is already pretty packed with interview appointments. Still, I got about five chapters down before I stopped to have an improvised lunch chez moi of mushroom soup, two slices of toast that I made into crostini--one with blue cheese and fresh figs, the other with (cheddar) cheese and pickle--which is really my friend Anna's mango chutney! Dessert was another fresh fig!
In-between re-reading my chapters, I corresponded with my publisher in Maryland to find out if he was willing to sell the paperback rights of my book on Anglo-Indians to Ishaan--his swift response informed me that there is still five months left on my contract during which I can do nothing as there is a possibility that Lexington Books might bring out a paperback edition themselves! How thrilling! Although this means that I cannot move in the matter for the next six months, at least it also means that there is a possibility that my publisher in the US will bring out a more affordable, more accessible internationally-priced paperback edition. That was good news indeed!
I also corresponded with my colleagues at NYU-New York about yet another grant program for which I would like to apply and which needs strong recommendations from them. Both of them came back to say that they would be more than happy to give me the necessary recommendations. So I will now need to work on that grant application as well. Few people realize that so much of the lives of academics and the research they turn out depend on funding for which they constantly need to apply. Thanks heavens for this Sabbatical of sorts which allows me to work undisturbed and to get so much field research done for what could potentially become two books: one on Western Theater in Bombay; the other on Western Music in Bombay! And, Ishaan is already interested in publishing both these volumes and is willing to give me a contract in hand for the two of them right now! All this, even before I have finished doing the research! Certainly exciting times lie ahead!
I took a swift nap of just 20 minutes before jumping into the shower and then dressing for the funeral. I met Dad and together we walked to the church for the viewing.
Farewell Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias:
The funeral I was attending was the final farewell to Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias, father of my two close friends, Sharon (who lives in Toronto) and Fiona. We grew up together in the building next door on the same lane in Bandra and Sharon was a particularly good friend. She was just a couple of years younger than I was, but I actually taught her while she was doing her Masters in English at the University of Bombay. I can so remember her sitting right there in the front row during the course I had taught on the Modern Short Story when I had included James Joyce's The Dead on my syllabus!
Francis (who was so modest that he never wanted to be addressed by his title, but merely by his first name!) passed away on Republic Day (January 26) after an illness of a few months. Sharon came down from Toronto for the funeral together with her 20-something son Aditya. Her husband Hubert could not come as her daughter Sanaya is in the midst of college exams. Fiona was present with her husband Lewis but since both her children are studying in the US, neither one of them could be there. Of course, Francis' wife, Selda, the true image of a military wife who carried herself with poise and dignity, was very much present. The entire family was so composed through it all that Sharon did the First Reading, Fiona gave a solo ("Precious Lord") after Communion, Aditya conducted the whole Mass by introducing each speaker and Selda gave the eulogy to her husband who was interred with full military honors. Also giving a eulogy was a Commander Yadav who had known Francis since he was a child as his father had been Francis' colleague even before he himself had joined the army. He told us that Francis had seen action in the Indo-Pak War of 1971 that led to the creation of Bangladesh. He has, therefore, left his footprints on history. Francis was so modest that even though he was sociable and voluble, he rarely talked about his own accomplishments although he was always full of praise for his children and grand-children.
The mass was said by Cardinal Oswald Gracias of Archbishop's House as Francis was the brother of our late Cardinal Ivan Dias--who had, once upon a time, been tipped off as the possible next Pope during the elections that brought Pope Francis to the Pontificate. This was also my first time hearing a Mass by a Cardinal in Bombay (although I have heard Pope Benedict's Mass in Rome) and I found him to be a very engaging speaker indeed. He preached a very touching and most informative sermon. Other concelebrants were a Bishop (whose name I did not get) plus another priest (unknown to me) and our two parish priests, Fr. Colman and Fr. Savio. My friend Fr. Tony Charangat (Editor of The Examiner) and a good friend of the Cardinal (whom he knows as "Ozzie") was also present as was Fr. Frazer Mascarenhas, former Principal of St. Xavier's College, Bombay (but they did not con-celebrate the Mass). The church was packed as the viewing started a half hour before Mass. Before the Mass commenced, military personnel marched in strict formation in pairs towards the altar and the coffin carrying wreaths and laying them at Francis' feet. There was a lot of saluting of the body as well as quick step marching around it. Similarly, at the end of the mass, the pall-bearers were military personnel who laid the coffin in the hearse.
Although there was a bus arranged to take people to the cemetery at Mount Carmel's Parish, Dad and I took a rickshaw there and gave a ride to one of Dad's friends called Offie (short for Ophelia). Once at the grave site, Dad took me to the grave of his sister, my Aunt Ella (whose funeral occurred a few months before I arrived in India).We then made our way to the grave site where a few people were gathered already. Prayers were said around Francis and his family by the Bishop after which his medals were removed from his lapel on his chest and handed over to his family members together with his hat. He was buried in full military uniform. Francis had received the Vir Chakra, India's meal for heroism and bravery for his role in the Indo-Pak War of '71.
As his coffin was lowered into the grave, one of the military musicians who was standing right besides me, used his bugle to play the Last Post. Needless to say, this was extremely touching. Once again, it was amazing to see how composed the immediate family members were as they bid their loved one goodbye. It still breaks my heart and causes tears to come to my eyes as I remember how my father said Goodbye to my Mum at her funeral. Perhaps the worst part of a funeral is saying a final goodbye before the coffin is sealed--to think that you will never ever see this person on the face of this earth again is chilling in the extreme.
After the funeral, we greeted a few people who had attended (Fr, Alvaro, a good friend of my Dad who told me that he never fails to read all my writing in The Examiner; my school mate Lira who was unable to attend the Alumni Reunion at St. Agnes' the other day, etc.) Luckily, we were able to find a rickshaw really quickly that took us home together with another lady called Jean to whom we offered a ride.
Back home at Dad's. I spent the evening with him and Russel who wanted to know everything about the funeral and asked many questions. Russel was a very good friend of Francis and I could see that he was grieving at his loss. I had dinner with them (prawn curry, cutlets and cabbage with papaya for dessert) and then left for my place where I found the time to read through one more chapter of my memoir manuscript before I fell asleep at 10.30 pm.
Until tomorrow...
Bombay
Bidding a Sad Farewell to an Indian Military Hero--RIP Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias
Namaste from Bombay!
It was a sad day and another first for me: my first time attending a funeral at which the deceased is interred with full military honors. The funeral would occur in the late afternoon after I had spent most of the day re-reading and editing the manuscript of my non-fictional memoir and preparing it for submission to my new publisher.
But first things first: No, I did not go to the gym today and I am feeling pretty overwhelmed by the number of things I have to do before I leave for the funeral. So, a hasty breakfast of muesli and coffee later, I sat down to begin work on it. My To-Do List lengthened suddenly as I put down all the things I have to do in the next week or so--a week that is already pretty packed with interview appointments. Still, I got about five chapters down before I stopped to have an improvised lunch chez moi of mushroom soup, two slices of toast that I made into crostini--one with blue cheese and fresh figs, the other with (cheddar) cheese and pickle--which is really my friend Anna's mango chutney! Dessert was another fresh fig!
In-between re-reading my chapters, I corresponded with my publisher in Maryland to find out if he was willing to sell the paperback rights of my book on Anglo-Indians to Ishaan--his swift response informed me that there is still five months left on my contract during which I can do nothing as there is a possibility that Lexington Books might bring out a paperback edition themselves! How thrilling! Although this means that I cannot move in the matter for the next six months, at least it also means that there is a possibility that my publisher in the US will bring out a more affordable, more accessible internationally-priced paperback edition. That was good news indeed!
I also corresponded with my colleagues at NYU-New York about yet another grant program for which I would like to apply and which needs strong recommendations from them. Both of them came back to say that they would be more than happy to give me the necessary recommendations. So I will now need to work on that grant application as well. Few people realize that so much of the lives of academics and the research they turn out depend on funding for which they constantly need to apply. Thanks heavens for this Sabbatical of sorts which allows me to work undisturbed and to get so much field research done for what could potentially become two books: one on Western Theater in Bombay; the other on Western Music in Bombay! And, Ishaan is already interested in publishing both these volumes and is willing to give me a contract in hand for the two of them right now! All this, even before I have finished doing the research! Certainly exciting times lie ahead!
I took a swift nap of just 20 minutes before jumping into the shower and then dressing for the funeral. I met Dad and together we walked to the church for the viewing.
Farewell Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias:
The funeral I was attending was the final farewell to Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias, father of my two close friends, Sharon (who lives in Toronto) and Fiona. We grew up together in the building next door on the same lane in Bandra and Sharon was a particularly good friend. She was just a couple of years younger than I was, but I actually taught her while she was doing her Masters in English at the University of Bombay. I can so remember her sitting right there in the front row during the course I had taught on the Modern Short Story when I had included James Joyce's The Dead on my syllabus!
Francis (who was so modest that he never wanted to be addressed by his title, but merely by his first name!) passed away on Republic Day (January 26) after an illness of a few months. Sharon came down from Toronto for the funeral together with her 20-something son Aditya. Her husband Hubert could not come as her daughter Sanaya is in the midst of college exams. Fiona was present with her husband Lewis but since both her children are studying in the US, neither one of them could be there. Of course, Francis' wife, Selda, the true image of a military wife who carried herself with poise and dignity, was very much present. The entire family was so composed through it all that Sharon did the First Reading, Fiona gave a solo ("Precious Lord") after Communion, Aditya conducted the whole Mass by introducing each speaker and Selda gave the eulogy to her husband who was interred with full military honors. Also giving a eulogy was a Commander Yadav who had known Francis since he was a child as his father had been Francis' colleague even before he himself had joined the army. He told us that Francis had seen action in the Indo-Pak War of 1971 that led to the creation of Bangladesh. He has, therefore, left his footprints on history. Francis was so modest that even though he was sociable and voluble, he rarely talked about his own accomplishments although he was always full of praise for his children and grand-children.
The mass was said by Cardinal Oswald Gracias of Archbishop's House as Francis was the brother of our late Cardinal Ivan Dias--who had, once upon a time, been tipped off as the possible next Pope during the elections that brought Pope Francis to the Pontificate. This was also my first time hearing a Mass by a Cardinal in Bombay (although I have heard Pope Benedict's Mass in Rome) and I found him to be a very engaging speaker indeed. He preached a very touching and most informative sermon. Other concelebrants were a Bishop (whose name I did not get) plus another priest (unknown to me) and our two parish priests, Fr. Colman and Fr. Savio. My friend Fr. Tony Charangat (Editor of The Examiner) and a good friend of the Cardinal (whom he knows as "Ozzie") was also present as was Fr. Frazer Mascarenhas, former Principal of St. Xavier's College, Bombay (but they did not con-celebrate the Mass). The church was packed as the viewing started a half hour before Mass. Before the Mass commenced, military personnel marched in strict formation in pairs towards the altar and the coffin carrying wreaths and laying them at Francis' feet. There was a lot of saluting of the body as well as quick step marching around it. Similarly, at the end of the mass, the pall-bearers were military personnel who laid the coffin in the hearse.
Although there was a bus arranged to take people to the cemetery at Mount Carmel's Parish, Dad and I took a rickshaw there and gave a ride to one of Dad's friends called Offie (short for Ophelia). Once at the grave site, Dad took me to the grave of his sister, my Aunt Ella (whose funeral occurred a few months before I arrived in India).We then made our way to the grave site where a few people were gathered already. Prayers were said around Francis and his family by the Bishop after which his medals were removed from his lapel on his chest and handed over to his family members together with his hat. He was buried in full military uniform. Francis had received the Vir Chakra, India's meal for heroism and bravery for his role in the Indo-Pak War of '71.
As his coffin was lowered into the grave, one of the military musicians who was standing right besides me, used his bugle to play the Last Post. Needless to say, this was extremely touching. Once again, it was amazing to see how composed the immediate family members were as they bid their loved one goodbye. It still breaks my heart and causes tears to come to my eyes as I remember how my father said Goodbye to my Mum at her funeral. Perhaps the worst part of a funeral is saying a final goodbye before the coffin is sealed--to think that you will never ever see this person on the face of this earth again is chilling in the extreme.
After the funeral, we greeted a few people who had attended (Fr, Alvaro, a good friend of my Dad who told me that he never fails to read all my writing in The Examiner; my school mate Lira who was unable to attend the Alumni Reunion at St. Agnes' the other day, etc.) Luckily, we were able to find a rickshaw really quickly that took us home together with another lady called Jean to whom we offered a ride.
Back home at Dad's. I spent the evening with him and Russel who wanted to know everything about the funeral and asked many questions. Russel was a very good friend of Francis and I could see that he was grieving at his loss. I had dinner with them (prawn curry, cutlets and cabbage with papaya for dessert) and then left for my place where I found the time to read through one more chapter of my memoir manuscript before I fell asleep at 10.30 pm.
Until tomorrow...
Monday, January 28, 2019
Walking on Cloud Nine! I Have a Publisher for my Non-Fictional Memoir!
Monday, January 28, 2019
Bombay
Walking on Cloud Nine! I Have a Publisher for my Non-Fictional Memoir!
Namaste from Bombay!
You must forgive me for wearing a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat's today. You see, my day started with a meeting with a potential publisher who offered me a contract right away and could not wait for me to finish the paper work. Yes! My non-fictional memoir based on the year I spent in the UK, ten years ago, when I was posted to teach at NYU-London during which year I had begun blogging, is finally going to be in print--in a book! Plus, we talked about other publishing ventures too. But first things first...
As usual, I blogged and caught up with Twitter and email before I got down to breakfast of muesli and coffee. At 10.30, I had a meeting with Ishaan Jajodia who founded Curato, a small publishing house based in Bombay. I had been introduced to him in September by our mutual friend Ashley D'Mello, a retired journalist from The Times of India. At our meeting at a Club in Juhu, Ishaan had told me that he could only take on the publication of my book in 2020--if, after reading my completed manuscript, he found it publication-worthy. I was not willing to wait for another whole year and so, gave up on the idea of working with him.
A few months have gone by and things have changed dramatically. Ishaan's former Copy Editor is no longer with his company. He has put together a new editorial team and changed the name of his publishing house to Curato (from Bombay Kala Books). He read my manuscript and likes it very much and would very much like to go ahead with the publication of it right away! I was amazed! This is happening while I have sent out a mass mailing to a number of Indian publishing houses to find out if anyone is interested in publishing it.
Naturally, I was quite delighted to meet Ishaan again at the Bandra Gymkhana which has become like an office for me! Over coffee for him and a cold lemon soda for me, we chatted about all aspects of the book--paperback or hard-bound; international distribution; to include or not to include recipes and pictures; cover design; a book launch in Bombay and, if I would like it, in Goa too; possible publication dates; contract details and signing, etc. etc. We also looked at Ishaan and his press getting a hold of rights to publish a paperback Indian edition of my book on Anglo-Indians as its hardbound cover price from Lexington Books is proving prohibitive to everyone--aside from folks in India who can't afford to buy it, my Anglo-Indian interviewees in the UK say that it is beyond their budgets too! Ishaan told me that if Lexington Books gives him the rights, he can publish a paperback edition for just Rs. 500 a pop! So, I will have a lot to work going forward...as reading the final manuscript of my memoir and submitting it will take up at least the next two weeks of my time and effort. Still, I am not complaining. This is a huge leap for me and I am thrilled.
For those of you who do not know it, the book began as my blog--when I was posted to live in London in 2008-09. It was a momentous year, both personally and publicly. No sooner did I get to the UK than the sub-prime mortgage hit: Lehman Brothers folded in the US and, in the UK, it was the Bradford and Bingley Bank that closed down. Meanwhile, our Ponzie Pal Bernie Madoff made off with money from so many different quarters (including NYU) that it plunged the world into the economic doldrums. Obama was elected, two months later, as the first Black American President, the horrendous terrorist attacks known now as the attacks of 26/11 took place in Bombay and changed the city forever.
On the personal front, I was attacked by a particularly virulent case of plantar fasciitis in both my feet that left me little short of crippled, I became homeless very suddenly when the lease on my London flat was not extended into the summer. I found an incredible place to stay through new English friends I had made which could only be found in dreams. I made friends with an American gal who was also posted to work in London from New York and together we traveled to far-flung corners of the UK to explore and engage in adventure. I traveled extensively throughout Europe and stayed in youth hostels where I met a motley lot of characters who formed the backbone of the many weird encounters I had that year. All these and more made up the crazy experiences of that year which I condensed into a book manuscript that is brimming with anecdotes, accounts of the food I tasted, cooked and ate, and of the exciting people who became firm forever friends.
Two years after I returned from the UK, I began writing the book. Believe me, I had so much to learn about taking a book from the blog stage to the page stage! Initially, my manuscript was full of information about all the places to which I had been culled from my travelogues; a few drafts later, it was all about the people I met because initial readers told me that this was what interested them the most. I workshopped early chapters of the book at the New York Writers Worshop under the master teacher Charles Salzburg who is an accomplished novelist himself and the king of non-fictional writing workshops. I learned a whole lot from him and from the other students in his class (including my friend Susan De Souza who took the class with me) who critiqued my chapters and offered suggestions and recommendations for change. I read a whole bunch of memoirs myself to understand about 'dramatic arcs' and the manner in which writers kept a reader's interest going chapter after chapter through personal stories. It was all about telling a tale; but the tale had to move forward at every stage and carry the reader with it. These were all the lessons I learned as the manuscript went through countless drafts. Just when I thought that I had it down pat, another reader would come up with more suggestions and tell me what to change. And each time, I absolutely and completely took their recommendations and carried on with the revisions. I learned from this book--my first non-academic book--that writing is nothing but re-writing or revising.
I think I am happy with this book as it finally stands and as it is now ready to go out into the world, I am filled with trepidation. Unlike my past books, this one is personal. It is about me and my loved ones and those people who have grown to be dear friends. I have to make sure that I am representing them correctly and that I will not cause even the slightest offense. Of course, I have changed names every where, but still...anonymity is not guaranteed and I have no doubt my many friends in the UK will recognize themselves through the pages. This is what worries me the most.
At the end of my meeting with Ishaan (who likes the book exactly as it is although I do want to look at changing the chapter order before I finally submit it to him), I asked for time so that my lawyer friend in the US can run her eye through the contract before I sign it. We parted with the assurance that we will work closely together in the weeks ahead.
I then went to Dad's for lunch as I have not yet resumed my own meal delivery service--Valerie's food was very much there for us--brinjal, a cheese-stuffed croquette and chicken mince with fresh papaya for dessert. Soon after lunch, I returned home and took a nap before looking at my contract with Lexington Books to see if Ishaan could take over an Indian paperback edition of my Anglo-Indian book. He cannot--I will need to go through Lexington Books for him to do so. I also began transcribing the interview that Chriselle and I had done with my Dad on Boxing Day. If I do not get started on this, I will not remember the finer details of what he told us.
Not too long after this, I received a call from my friend Maria who is visiting India from Washington DC were she works with a subsidiary of the World Bank. She invited me to visit with her at her home in a building called 'Sand Pebbles' which is only a two minute walk from my place. I spent a good hour with her and her friend Yvette who was visiting from Melbourne, Australia. By the time I left her, it was blowing and I returned home to pick up a cardigan before joining Dad for Mass. I did not have much time today to visit with Russel although we did have lunch together.
Mass done, Dad and I parted company and I went home to have soup with cheese and crackers for dinner together with fresh pomelo which Dad's fruit man brought to his door for me together with wonderful fresh figs. I simply love the tropical fruit in India and am eating a lot of it.
I watched something called The Yorkshire Ripper starring Alun Armstrong on TV but about an hour into it, I stopped and continued reading Birdbox for another hour--until I felt quite sleepy. I turned in early today--before 9.30 as my entire body feels as if it needs a lot more resting time.
Until tomorrow...
Bombay
Walking on Cloud Nine! I Have a Publisher for my Non-Fictional Memoir!
Namaste from Bombay!
You must forgive me for wearing a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat's today. You see, my day started with a meeting with a potential publisher who offered me a contract right away and could not wait for me to finish the paper work. Yes! My non-fictional memoir based on the year I spent in the UK, ten years ago, when I was posted to teach at NYU-London during which year I had begun blogging, is finally going to be in print--in a book! Plus, we talked about other publishing ventures too. But first things first...
As usual, I blogged and caught up with Twitter and email before I got down to breakfast of muesli and coffee. At 10.30, I had a meeting with Ishaan Jajodia who founded Curato, a small publishing house based in Bombay. I had been introduced to him in September by our mutual friend Ashley D'Mello, a retired journalist from The Times of India. At our meeting at a Club in Juhu, Ishaan had told me that he could only take on the publication of my book in 2020--if, after reading my completed manuscript, he found it publication-worthy. I was not willing to wait for another whole year and so, gave up on the idea of working with him.
A few months have gone by and things have changed dramatically. Ishaan's former Copy Editor is no longer with his company. He has put together a new editorial team and changed the name of his publishing house to Curato (from Bombay Kala Books). He read my manuscript and likes it very much and would very much like to go ahead with the publication of it right away! I was amazed! This is happening while I have sent out a mass mailing to a number of Indian publishing houses to find out if anyone is interested in publishing it.
Naturally, I was quite delighted to meet Ishaan again at the Bandra Gymkhana which has become like an office for me! Over coffee for him and a cold lemon soda for me, we chatted about all aspects of the book--paperback or hard-bound; international distribution; to include or not to include recipes and pictures; cover design; a book launch in Bombay and, if I would like it, in Goa too; possible publication dates; contract details and signing, etc. etc. We also looked at Ishaan and his press getting a hold of rights to publish a paperback Indian edition of my book on Anglo-Indians as its hardbound cover price from Lexington Books is proving prohibitive to everyone--aside from folks in India who can't afford to buy it, my Anglo-Indian interviewees in the UK say that it is beyond their budgets too! Ishaan told me that if Lexington Books gives him the rights, he can publish a paperback edition for just Rs. 500 a pop! So, I will have a lot to work going forward...as reading the final manuscript of my memoir and submitting it will take up at least the next two weeks of my time and effort. Still, I am not complaining. This is a huge leap for me and I am thrilled.
For those of you who do not know it, the book began as my blog--when I was posted to live in London in 2008-09. It was a momentous year, both personally and publicly. No sooner did I get to the UK than the sub-prime mortgage hit: Lehman Brothers folded in the US and, in the UK, it was the Bradford and Bingley Bank that closed down. Meanwhile, our Ponzie Pal Bernie Madoff made off with money from so many different quarters (including NYU) that it plunged the world into the economic doldrums. Obama was elected, two months later, as the first Black American President, the horrendous terrorist attacks known now as the attacks of 26/11 took place in Bombay and changed the city forever.
On the personal front, I was attacked by a particularly virulent case of plantar fasciitis in both my feet that left me little short of crippled, I became homeless very suddenly when the lease on my London flat was not extended into the summer. I found an incredible place to stay through new English friends I had made which could only be found in dreams. I made friends with an American gal who was also posted to work in London from New York and together we traveled to far-flung corners of the UK to explore and engage in adventure. I traveled extensively throughout Europe and stayed in youth hostels where I met a motley lot of characters who formed the backbone of the many weird encounters I had that year. All these and more made up the crazy experiences of that year which I condensed into a book manuscript that is brimming with anecdotes, accounts of the food I tasted, cooked and ate, and of the exciting people who became firm forever friends.
Two years after I returned from the UK, I began writing the book. Believe me, I had so much to learn about taking a book from the blog stage to the page stage! Initially, my manuscript was full of information about all the places to which I had been culled from my travelogues; a few drafts later, it was all about the people I met because initial readers told me that this was what interested them the most. I workshopped early chapters of the book at the New York Writers Worshop under the master teacher Charles Salzburg who is an accomplished novelist himself and the king of non-fictional writing workshops. I learned a whole lot from him and from the other students in his class (including my friend Susan De Souza who took the class with me) who critiqued my chapters and offered suggestions and recommendations for change. I read a whole bunch of memoirs myself to understand about 'dramatic arcs' and the manner in which writers kept a reader's interest going chapter after chapter through personal stories. It was all about telling a tale; but the tale had to move forward at every stage and carry the reader with it. These were all the lessons I learned as the manuscript went through countless drafts. Just when I thought that I had it down pat, another reader would come up with more suggestions and tell me what to change. And each time, I absolutely and completely took their recommendations and carried on with the revisions. I learned from this book--my first non-academic book--that writing is nothing but re-writing or revising.
I think I am happy with this book as it finally stands and as it is now ready to go out into the world, I am filled with trepidation. Unlike my past books, this one is personal. It is about me and my loved ones and those people who have grown to be dear friends. I have to make sure that I am representing them correctly and that I will not cause even the slightest offense. Of course, I have changed names every where, but still...anonymity is not guaranteed and I have no doubt my many friends in the UK will recognize themselves through the pages. This is what worries me the most.
At the end of my meeting with Ishaan (who likes the book exactly as it is although I do want to look at changing the chapter order before I finally submit it to him), I asked for time so that my lawyer friend in the US can run her eye through the contract before I sign it. We parted with the assurance that we will work closely together in the weeks ahead.
I then went to Dad's for lunch as I have not yet resumed my own meal delivery service--Valerie's food was very much there for us--brinjal, a cheese-stuffed croquette and chicken mince with fresh papaya for dessert. Soon after lunch, I returned home and took a nap before looking at my contract with Lexington Books to see if Ishaan could take over an Indian paperback edition of my Anglo-Indian book. He cannot--I will need to go through Lexington Books for him to do so. I also began transcribing the interview that Chriselle and I had done with my Dad on Boxing Day. If I do not get started on this, I will not remember the finer details of what he told us.
Not too long after this, I received a call from my friend Maria who is visiting India from Washington DC were she works with a subsidiary of the World Bank. She invited me to visit with her at her home in a building called 'Sand Pebbles' which is only a two minute walk from my place. I spent a good hour with her and her friend Yvette who was visiting from Melbourne, Australia. By the time I left her, it was blowing and I returned home to pick up a cardigan before joining Dad for Mass. I did not have much time today to visit with Russel although we did have lunch together.
Mass done, Dad and I parted company and I went home to have soup with cheese and crackers for dinner together with fresh pomelo which Dad's fruit man brought to his door for me together with wonderful fresh figs. I simply love the tropical fruit in India and am eating a lot of it.
I watched something called The Yorkshire Ripper starring Alun Armstrong on TV but about an hour into it, I stopped and continued reading Birdbox for another hour--until I felt quite sleepy. I turned in early today--before 9.30 as my entire body feels as if it needs a lot more resting time.
Until tomorrow...
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Celebrating a Diamond Jubilee with my High School Principal
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Bombay
Celebrating a Diamond Jubilee with my High School Principal
Namaste from Bombay!
I love Sundays in Bombay!
I managed to catch the broon man (his bicycle bell is a giveaway) and purchased two loaves from him--they made a good brekkie with spreads: salmon cream cheese, orange ginger marmalade, Nutella and peanut butter--all enjoyed with coffee! Didn't finish all of it as I had to leave for the 9.15 Mass this morning, where I was a Lector and did the First Reading. Fr. Colman (not Fr. Lancy D'Souza) said the Mass. There is comforting routine in the fact that I pick up a vada pau for Russel, then spend about half an hour visiting with him and Dad before I return home.
Somehow I was not feeling quite fit or energetic today and after spending a little while cleaning my studio, I proceeded to take a much-needed nap. Not too long after, I ordered Chicken Pullao from the Bandra Gym and went off to pick it up when Samir called to tell me it was ready. Lunch with Dad and Russel followed--I took along the delicious Gujarati Undhiya that I had frozen--a take-home gift from my friend Ramita whom I had visited in Alibagh. We had a good time visiting together until I left as Dad switched on the TV to watch the Australian Tennis Men's Final with his hero Rafa Nadal playing Djokovic.
Back home, I had a swift nap (yes, again!) and then got myself ready for my evening's appointments: I had two things to do--first, a trip to the high school from which I had graduated (St. Agnes' High School) to participate in annual Ex-Students Day and then a visit to my friends Leslie and Sunil Mahtani from Westport, Connecticut, who are visiting India briefly for a wedding in Jaipur. I would be meeting them at Sunil's mother's place in Napean Sea Road just before they left for the airport to board their flight back to the US.
I was lucky that my friend Beena (who was making her way by bus from Poona to Bombay for the high school reunion) managed to put me in contact with a few of her batch mates from Bandra who were taking a cab to Byculla Bridge and who were happy to offer me a ride. I was supposed to meet them at the gates of Mount Carmel Church from where they would pick me up.
One shower later, I got myself organized for the big evening ahead and found a rick to get me to the appointed spot. On cue, they arrived by cab and off we went--chatting, needless to say, nineteen to the dozen, as I reconnected with Rita whom I clearly remember as the sweet gal whom my Mum had requested to look after me when I had entered my school bus on my first day in Std. I when I was five years old! Rita had done a good job for that whole year--she was extremely kind to me. But then, with the passing of years, she went on to the senior school while I remained in the primary and she forgot all about me! I did not need any looking after anyway, by that point. In the cab, as I was wearing my dark glasses, she asked if I had light eyes! It is amazing how everyone seems to remember my light eyes! We talked about all sorts of things and then, before we knew it, we had reached our school. I would love to meet Rita again and catch up with her.
A Reunion at my High School:
My school has an active alumni association (of which I am a life member) that maintains a good emailing list--with so many of us scattered world-wide, it is a fine document by which to connect with each other across the years and the miles. Each year, at this time, to coincide with the Feast of St. Agnes, the Committee members organize a get-together. I have attended a few of these over the years as I almost invariably happen to be in Bombay at this time. This year, I was particularly keen to attend it as we would have the opportunity to meet with our former Principal, Sr. Mary Esperanza, who is usually based in Baroda in Gujarat. Ten years ago, a group of our 'girls' had gone off to Baroda to meet her--that was when the enthusiasm for reunions had begun. This year happened to be the 60th (Diamond) Jubilee anniversary of her taking of Holy Orders and the alumni association wanted to celebrate with her. It was to be a small celebration, but I was happy to attend it for the chance to meet her. A few years ago, I had received a lovely letter from her (which I continue to treasure). I looked forward to this opportunity to renew contact with her. It is still amazing to me how this year in Bombay is providing me with opportunities to connect with my former and past life in the most moving, most meaningful, of ways.
Sr. Esperanza (we used to call her Espy, for short) was very much present when we arrived upstairs in the school building in which I had also been a teacher (Singing and Music) for 2 years during my undergraduate years at Elphinstone College. I went upstairs and opened the door to the Hall where I used to conduct my Singing classes. But first Espy...There she was, hugging and kissing all the 'girls' who had arrived from far and near. Initially, we were mainly Catholic girls as the evening was supposed to begin with Mass at 4.30 in the School Chapel.
I went up to her and said, "Hello Sister, I wonder if you remember me..I am Rochelle". And said said, "Of course, I do! How is your Daddy???" Well, My Dad will be most flattered by this as he had said to me, before I left, I wonder if Sister will remember me. I told her he had said so, and she replied, "Well, he was such a smart man! How could I ever forget him?" My Dad had recalled emceeing so many functions for our school, including huge fund-raisers at such prestigious locations as the Shanmukananda Hall, etc. Sister remembered all of that, much to Beena's astonishment, as she happened to be standing near and also knows my Dad well as we had both grown up together in the Reserve Bank Colony where my Dad was a fixture on the social entertainment scene for over a decade. So, I have to tell Dad, that in the few minutes that I managed to get Sr Esperanza's undivided attention, we talked about him! He will be thrilled!
Mass followed soon after. The chapel was well prepared for the special Mass. Having heard Mass in the morning, I could not receive Communion again, but I was asked to read out the petitions. That done, we greeted and congratulated our former Principal again. I was pleased to see my friend Marianel had arrived with an old friend (now in Scarborough, Ontario), Genevieve who we all knew as Juju. There were a few of my batch mates too--Iris and her sister Blossom--and some from other batches: Odette, Mini, Vinita and my friend Marian from Reston, Virginia, who happened to also be in Bombay at this time and is flying off to the States tomorrow.
The lot of us then proceeded to our former school hall where the rest of the evening's goings-on were to be held. The felicitation of Sr. Esperaniza began with Beena being asked to say a few words and they were lovely! This was followed by the presentation of a shawl and flowers. Sister then said a few words to thank us all and told us that when she had requested that a marking of her 60th anniversary should be held at St. Agnes' High School, she never thought that it would turn into this lovely function for which she was very grateful indeed. Her speech ended with a singing of the song 'May The Good Lord Bless and Keep You' which she sang for all of us--her beloved past pupils who continue to shower on her so much admiration, love and respect. I have to say that she looks fabulous for her age and for the knocks that life has meted out--she is a recent cancer patient having had breast cancer and a mastectomy. At 80 plus, she simply rocks! Well done, Sister!
It seems that a past student of our school has produced and directed a film entitled The Little Violet Blossom and a trailer of that was screened right after. I had to leave by this point as I had to see Leslie and Sunil. So I hopped into a cab (which took a while to get) outside my school gates--it is amazing to me how much Clare Road has changed in the past forty years and now techni-colored the entire street seemed from the vast number of brightly-lit bakeries, confectionary shops, ice-cream shops, etc. that have taken over the street. I was happy to catch a quick passing glimpse of American Express bakery (with its clever slogan, 'We knead your needs' still very prominent). Driving through Nagpada, I was amazed to find St. Anthony's School (where my Dad used to teach Sunday School and I used to attend with him) still standing--the last bastion of Catholicism in an area that has been completely taken over by Islam. My cab tore through bits of traffic on streets dense with humanity and I realized how accustomed I have become to crowds and how easily I can now take it all in my stride. Truly, the transition I have made to this Bombay way of life seems to have been almost seamless.
Dinner with the Mahtanis:
A little later, I was calling to get exact directions to Purnima, the building on Napean Sea Road in which I'd had dinner with Leslie and her sister Beverley when they were visiting from the States, two months ago. It was great to see Leslie again and this time with Sunil, her husband, in tow. They were carrying some items (including my medication) with them and I would be picking it up from them plus getting to see them just before their departure. They invited me to dinner and it was a great joy to meet Sunil's mother again--a lovely graceful Sindhi lady who never fails to invite me to stay for dinner.
Dinner was simple: dal, rice, roti, paneer, chicken mince with peas with barfi to follow (a typical daily Indian meal). I was happy to sit and eat with Sunil and Leslie and catch up with them. They suggested that I go with them in the Uber they would hail to the airport. It seemed like a very good idea. A little later, we were joined by Rahul, Sunil's nephew (his bother Narain's son), who is also visiting from the States (Detroit). We had a lovely evening together until it was time to load their suitcases in the Uber--a bit of a production, but load them we did. They dropped me off right after the Bandra Sea Link where I found a rick into which I jumped.
I got home at about 9.30 and called Dad to tell him I had reached safely. I was dying for an early night and after a very long time, I decided to switch the light off before 10.00 pm.
Until tomorrow....
Bombay
Celebrating a Diamond Jubilee with my High School Principal
Namaste from Bombay!
I love Sundays in Bombay!
I managed to catch the broon man (his bicycle bell is a giveaway) and purchased two loaves from him--they made a good brekkie with spreads: salmon cream cheese, orange ginger marmalade, Nutella and peanut butter--all enjoyed with coffee! Didn't finish all of it as I had to leave for the 9.15 Mass this morning, where I was a Lector and did the First Reading. Fr. Colman (not Fr. Lancy D'Souza) said the Mass. There is comforting routine in the fact that I pick up a vada pau for Russel, then spend about half an hour visiting with him and Dad before I return home.
Somehow I was not feeling quite fit or energetic today and after spending a little while cleaning my studio, I proceeded to take a much-needed nap. Not too long after, I ordered Chicken Pullao from the Bandra Gym and went off to pick it up when Samir called to tell me it was ready. Lunch with Dad and Russel followed--I took along the delicious Gujarati Undhiya that I had frozen--a take-home gift from my friend Ramita whom I had visited in Alibagh. We had a good time visiting together until I left as Dad switched on the TV to watch the Australian Tennis Men's Final with his hero Rafa Nadal playing Djokovic.
Back home, I had a swift nap (yes, again!) and then got myself ready for my evening's appointments: I had two things to do--first, a trip to the high school from which I had graduated (St. Agnes' High School) to participate in annual Ex-Students Day and then a visit to my friends Leslie and Sunil Mahtani from Westport, Connecticut, who are visiting India briefly for a wedding in Jaipur. I would be meeting them at Sunil's mother's place in Napean Sea Road just before they left for the airport to board their flight back to the US.
I was lucky that my friend Beena (who was making her way by bus from Poona to Bombay for the high school reunion) managed to put me in contact with a few of her batch mates from Bandra who were taking a cab to Byculla Bridge and who were happy to offer me a ride. I was supposed to meet them at the gates of Mount Carmel Church from where they would pick me up.
One shower later, I got myself organized for the big evening ahead and found a rick to get me to the appointed spot. On cue, they arrived by cab and off we went--chatting, needless to say, nineteen to the dozen, as I reconnected with Rita whom I clearly remember as the sweet gal whom my Mum had requested to look after me when I had entered my school bus on my first day in Std. I when I was five years old! Rita had done a good job for that whole year--she was extremely kind to me. But then, with the passing of years, she went on to the senior school while I remained in the primary and she forgot all about me! I did not need any looking after anyway, by that point. In the cab, as I was wearing my dark glasses, she asked if I had light eyes! It is amazing how everyone seems to remember my light eyes! We talked about all sorts of things and then, before we knew it, we had reached our school. I would love to meet Rita again and catch up with her.
A Reunion at my High School:
My school has an active alumni association (of which I am a life member) that maintains a good emailing list--with so many of us scattered world-wide, it is a fine document by which to connect with each other across the years and the miles. Each year, at this time, to coincide with the Feast of St. Agnes, the Committee members organize a get-together. I have attended a few of these over the years as I almost invariably happen to be in Bombay at this time. This year, I was particularly keen to attend it as we would have the opportunity to meet with our former Principal, Sr. Mary Esperanza, who is usually based in Baroda in Gujarat. Ten years ago, a group of our 'girls' had gone off to Baroda to meet her--that was when the enthusiasm for reunions had begun. This year happened to be the 60th (Diamond) Jubilee anniversary of her taking of Holy Orders and the alumni association wanted to celebrate with her. It was to be a small celebration, but I was happy to attend it for the chance to meet her. A few years ago, I had received a lovely letter from her (which I continue to treasure). I looked forward to this opportunity to renew contact with her. It is still amazing to me how this year in Bombay is providing me with opportunities to connect with my former and past life in the most moving, most meaningful, of ways.
Sr. Esperanza (we used to call her Espy, for short) was very much present when we arrived upstairs in the school building in which I had also been a teacher (Singing and Music) for 2 years during my undergraduate years at Elphinstone College. I went upstairs and opened the door to the Hall where I used to conduct my Singing classes. But first Espy...There she was, hugging and kissing all the 'girls' who had arrived from far and near. Initially, we were mainly Catholic girls as the evening was supposed to begin with Mass at 4.30 in the School Chapel.
I went up to her and said, "Hello Sister, I wonder if you remember me..I am Rochelle". And said said, "Of course, I do! How is your Daddy???" Well, My Dad will be most flattered by this as he had said to me, before I left, I wonder if Sister will remember me. I told her he had said so, and she replied, "Well, he was such a smart man! How could I ever forget him?" My Dad had recalled emceeing so many functions for our school, including huge fund-raisers at such prestigious locations as the Shanmukananda Hall, etc. Sister remembered all of that, much to Beena's astonishment, as she happened to be standing near and also knows my Dad well as we had both grown up together in the Reserve Bank Colony where my Dad was a fixture on the social entertainment scene for over a decade. So, I have to tell Dad, that in the few minutes that I managed to get Sr Esperanza's undivided attention, we talked about him! He will be thrilled!
Mass followed soon after. The chapel was well prepared for the special Mass. Having heard Mass in the morning, I could not receive Communion again, but I was asked to read out the petitions. That done, we greeted and congratulated our former Principal again. I was pleased to see my friend Marianel had arrived with an old friend (now in Scarborough, Ontario), Genevieve who we all knew as Juju. There were a few of my batch mates too--Iris and her sister Blossom--and some from other batches: Odette, Mini, Vinita and my friend Marian from Reston, Virginia, who happened to also be in Bombay at this time and is flying off to the States tomorrow.
The lot of us then proceeded to our former school hall where the rest of the evening's goings-on were to be held. The felicitation of Sr. Esperaniza began with Beena being asked to say a few words and they were lovely! This was followed by the presentation of a shawl and flowers. Sister then said a few words to thank us all and told us that when she had requested that a marking of her 60th anniversary should be held at St. Agnes' High School, she never thought that it would turn into this lovely function for which she was very grateful indeed. Her speech ended with a singing of the song 'May The Good Lord Bless and Keep You' which she sang for all of us--her beloved past pupils who continue to shower on her so much admiration, love and respect. I have to say that she looks fabulous for her age and for the knocks that life has meted out--she is a recent cancer patient having had breast cancer and a mastectomy. At 80 plus, she simply rocks! Well done, Sister!
It seems that a past student of our school has produced and directed a film entitled The Little Violet Blossom and a trailer of that was screened right after. I had to leave by this point as I had to see Leslie and Sunil. So I hopped into a cab (which took a while to get) outside my school gates--it is amazing to me how much Clare Road has changed in the past forty years and now techni-colored the entire street seemed from the vast number of brightly-lit bakeries, confectionary shops, ice-cream shops, etc. that have taken over the street. I was happy to catch a quick passing glimpse of American Express bakery (with its clever slogan, 'We knead your needs' still very prominent). Driving through Nagpada, I was amazed to find St. Anthony's School (where my Dad used to teach Sunday School and I used to attend with him) still standing--the last bastion of Catholicism in an area that has been completely taken over by Islam. My cab tore through bits of traffic on streets dense with humanity and I realized how accustomed I have become to crowds and how easily I can now take it all in my stride. Truly, the transition I have made to this Bombay way of life seems to have been almost seamless.
Dinner with the Mahtanis:
A little later, I was calling to get exact directions to Purnima, the building on Napean Sea Road in which I'd had dinner with Leslie and her sister Beverley when they were visiting from the States, two months ago. It was great to see Leslie again and this time with Sunil, her husband, in tow. They were carrying some items (including my medication) with them and I would be picking it up from them plus getting to see them just before their departure. They invited me to dinner and it was a great joy to meet Sunil's mother again--a lovely graceful Sindhi lady who never fails to invite me to stay for dinner.
Dinner was simple: dal, rice, roti, paneer, chicken mince with peas with barfi to follow (a typical daily Indian meal). I was happy to sit and eat with Sunil and Leslie and catch up with them. They suggested that I go with them in the Uber they would hail to the airport. It seemed like a very good idea. A little later, we were joined by Rahul, Sunil's nephew (his bother Narain's son), who is also visiting from the States (Detroit). We had a lovely evening together until it was time to load their suitcases in the Uber--a bit of a production, but load them we did. They dropped me off right after the Bandra Sea Link where I found a rick into which I jumped.
I got home at about 9.30 and called Dad to tell him I had reached safely. I was dying for an early night and after a very long time, I decided to switch the light off before 10.00 pm.
Until tomorrow....
Saturday, January 26, 2019
Easing into Routine and Partying Among Strangers
Saturday, January 26, 2019
Bombay
Easing into Routine and Partying Among Strangers
Namaste from Bombay!
As I said, having that delicious caffeine-loaded Americano with Ashley at Cafe Bodega in Panjim did a number on my sleep pattern and I was wide awake until 2.00 am--during which time I actually put on the TV again in the hope of it lulling me to sleep! Naturally, my entire day appeared screwed up. I awoke at 6.45 but still felt sleepy and sluggish. Blogging, eating brekkie of muesli and coffee during which I watched Midsomer Murders eased me into the day. It was good not to have anything really pressing on my calendar. About an hour later, I felt sleepy again and took a half hour's nap! Today is Republic Day, a public holiday in India, and everything felt very quiet as the rest of the city took it easy too.
I stopped to take a shower and bring my home back to normal after all my unpacking had been done--although I still have to put my little stroller bag away. It gets tucked into my other stacked cases that are covered with plastic and lie in the balcony--thank heavens I have that balcony. Although I barely use it, it is valuable extra space for which I am really grateful.
I had email to which I needed to respond and that took me more than an hour. It was not long before I continued working on the lesson plan for the Travel Writing Workshop I have been invited to teach at the Narsee Monjee Institute of Management Studies by my friend Celia Rodriguez who is the lecturer there. This is scheduled for next Saturday but I need to send the students some things to read prior to the class.
Receiving Sad News:
At this point, I received a call from Dad telling me about the passing away of a dear family friend who lived in the building next to his--Lieutenant-General Francis Dias who happens to be the father of my dear friend Sharon (now Rau) who lives in Toronto. I was so sorry to hear the news as he really was the nicest man and his wife, Selda, is such a lovely person and such a good friend to my late Mum and now my Dad.
Dad went across and spent about two hours with Selda as she and her daughter Fiona together with her husband Lewis began working on the funeral arrangements. The funeral will occur this coming Tuesday at 4.00 pm at our church where he will be interred with full military honors as a man who proudly served the Indian nation. The main celebrant at the Mass will be Cardinal Oswald Gracias as Francis' late brother was also a Cardinal--Cardinal Ivan Dias. In fact, if you can remember, during the time of the election of the current Pope, Ivan was tipped off as being the possible next Pope! No doubt, the church will be packed and for me, at least, it will be a very different sort of funeral to attend as I have never been to such a one.
Tuesday at 6.00 pm happened to be the time slot in which my friend and colleague Filipa Lowndes Vincente would be giving a talk on Jose Gerson da Cunha at the Prince of Wales Museum and I was keen to attend it. But, I have now decided not to go to the talk but to go to the funeral instead. The evening following the talk, I have been invited to dinner by actor and retired advertising man, Gerson da Cunha whom I have interviewed and who is the grand-nephew of Jose Gerson da Cunha who will be the subject of Filipa's lecture. She will be talking about his work as an accomplished Orientalist and her chapter in the anthology on Goa that I have edited is on the same topic. Fortunately, I also heard her speak on the same subject at the conference in Goa.
Getting on with Shopping Chores:
I then nipped out to the corner shop to pick up a loaf of multi-grain bread, some cookies, two packages of powdered Batchelor's cream soups, a packet of Maggi Masala Instant Noodles (I wanted to taste them) and some apples to set myself up for the coming week. Back home, I made myself lunch out of the Maggi Noodles, spread two crackers with blue cheese and ate those with a cup of soup! Lovely! Probably an extremely unhealthy, carb-filled meal...but I don't do this too often.
Lunch done, I continued corresponding by Whatsapp with my publisher--because yes, I have found a publisher for my next book (my non-fictional memoir of the year I spent in London, ten years ago). He is young Ishaan Jajodia who owns Bombay Kala Books. It is nice, for a change, to have a publisher who is wooing me! Ishaan is keen to get his hands on my book and to publish it and I am quite thrilled to meet with him on Monday and see what he can offer. I find him energetic, dynamic and very personable. And get this...he is all of 19 years old and an undergraduate at Dartmouth where he is majoring in International Relations. He is skipping the spring semester and will be in Bombay till the end of March and wants to finalize a deal with me before he returns to his studies!!!
I then sat down with my phone and began making all sorts of appointments for the interviews I will need to do in the month of February. Thankfully, most of them will be in the Bandra area and I do not believe I will need to return to the city as much as I did during the early months of my research. I will be devoting the coming month to work on the Bandra Zonal competitions and drama groups such as Motley and Rage. In March, I shall begin work on the Prithvi Theater Company. So there you have it...making these calls and putting dates down on my calendar felt very fulfilling as I get into the swing of my research routine again after my long break for Christmas and after.
It was after 5.00 pm when I stopped for a cuppa and a slice of cake and then I was out the door after getting dressed for a party. It would be a weird sort of evening as I had to make a condolence visit to Selda and attend a party right after it!
Making a Condolence Visit:
I stayed with Selda for about half an hour, during which time her daughter Fiona and her husband Lewis arrived. Everyone was very calm as they have reconciled themselves to the news. Selda told me that Francis has been ailing since last July although he was in Canada then and returned to Bombay in September where he was so relieved to be treated at Holy Family Hospital amidst doctors who are dedicated, caring and known to him. He found the Canadian socialized medicine system so appalling--the fact that he had to wait so long for an appointment and that only the minimum level of treatment is given in any case to avoid unnecessary burdens on the Canadian tax-payer who support the system was not something he could fathom, she said! Here, in Bombay, he was under the care of Dr. Ian D'Souza, at Holy Family Hospital who had treated Francis with nothing but the utmost care and devotion. As Ian had also treated my Mum, I am well aware of what a great doctor he is and how dedicated he is to his patients. His wife Vanessa happens to be the sister of my friend Louella (now in Vancouver and who was here in Bombay recently). I can still remember how eagerly Louella had stepped up to help me if calling her brother-in-law Ian in Bombay to introduce me to him would help my Mum's treatment. The inter-connectedness of my stay in Bombay is always very interesting to me.
After the condolence visit, I went to Dad's--he was at Mass but I spent an hour and a half with Russel discussing all sorts of things with him (mainly cricket, old neighbors that we remembered, that sort of thing) as I kept him company. Dad returned soon after and I took my leave of them as I had a party to attend.
Attending a Party Amongst Strangers:
Sometimes I quite marvel at the strange situations in which I find myself because of my willingness to embrace the unknown! So, this morning, I received a whatsapp message from Radhika, a new friend I have made here in Bombay. Radhika and I began chatting at Calcutta airport, about two months ago, when we were going through the security line. At Bombay airport, she ended up giving me a ride home in her father's car as she lives very close to me. The number of coincidences and similarities in our current lives was so amazing to us that we felt we were fated to become friends--she too is from the States, she too is in India for a year, she too is a teacher (at the American School), she too has a husband from whom she is parted for a year, she too lives in Bandra at Perry Cross Road where both she and I grew up! Well, that was it! We have been trying to meet again since then, but both she and I have also been traveling so much that meetings were proving elusive.
This morning, she told me that it was her mother's birthday today and she invited me to join the party at her brother's place at Mount Mary. I was game! And so I found myself partying among strangers!
But, of course, in Bombay, no one remains a stranger for long! It is very easy to make friends as everyone is so hospitable and welcoming. Ten minutes into the party, I felt as if I knew the hosts forever. Radhika introduced me to her mother Seema (whose birthday it was), to her brother Suraj, his wife, Manmeet and a bunch of friends including her college classmate, also Radhika, who then gave me a ride home. It was a fun opportunity to get to know a bunch of new folks and to admire a really gorgeous apartment--Manmeet is an interior designer and her apartment is flawlessly decorated!
The entire evening was catered by Olives, the restaurant at Union Park which is reputed to serve some amazing food--and indeed everything was spectacular. From the starters which included melted truffle brie on toast, chicken and prawn tikka, bruschetta of mixed peppers and tomato with goat cheese, they were stunning. I had a G and T--a really stiff one made for me by the bar man--and so many starters that by the time dinner rolled on, I (together with every one else!) was simply too full. Still, I found room for cod in oyster sauce, lamb tagine and two superb salads: Ceasar Salad with grilled chicken and a beetroot, goat cheese and orange salad (so yummy!). Desserts were the cheese cake which Seema had cut plus chocolate mousse and tiramisu (the latter two in tiny cups). Boy oh Boy! You can just imagine how floored I felt by the evening as I had expected only a small gathering of Radhika's family members and I ended up making friends with a whole bunch of great guys who were friendship personified and who really spared no expense to throw a scintillating party! We played housie together (which was also fun and a great thrill for Radhika's kids who called out the numbers) and amidst a great deal of ribbing, we really had a blast.
An Unexpected Thrill:
For me, the biggest thrill of the evening occurred when a lady came up to me, about an hour into the party, and asked me, "Excuse me, but did you ever play the piano and teach Singing and Music in a Catholic school?" I said, Yes, I did. And she said, "You know, you were my teacher! You taught me! I was in the 5th standard and you were my Singing teacher at St. Agnes' High School in Byculla." Good Lord! You could have knocked me down with a feather--I was so stunned! It turns out that she was 10 years old, I was 17! I was an undergraduate student at Elphinstone College working part-time from 1.00 to 3.00 pm four days a week at the school after I had responded to the ad it had carried in The Examiner asking for a Music Teacher! The lady who recognized me is called Tehseen Merchant. I asked her how she could possibly recognize me after all these years and despite the fact that she was only a kid when I taught her. And she proceeded to tell me that I have not aged one day since then!!! Of course she made my day! But, compliments aside, I am still marveling about coming face to face with someone I taught when I was 17 and who still recognized me without any difficulty! How glorious an experience it was is not something I can express in words!
So, you can see, it was a brilliant party! Tehseen and I exchanged phone numbers and will meet again to talk about old times at St Ag's--which incidentally, is celebrating its annual day for ex-students tomorrow and which I will be attending.
So there you have it. Radhika dropped me home and as I was making my way back to my building, I took my eye off the road ahead for a minute to peep into a passing garden when I had a spectacular fall! I went sprawling on the ground...but, thankfully, I was more embarrassed than anything else (although there was no one around at that hour--after midnight--to see me ). I was left completely unhurt. I thank God that I did not end with any broken bones or a foot injury or anything. I picked myself up with difficulty and got home to simply brush and floss my teeth and go straight to bed!
What a weird day!
Until tomorrow...
Bombay
Easing into Routine and Partying Among Strangers
Namaste from Bombay!
As I said, having that delicious caffeine-loaded Americano with Ashley at Cafe Bodega in Panjim did a number on my sleep pattern and I was wide awake until 2.00 am--during which time I actually put on the TV again in the hope of it lulling me to sleep! Naturally, my entire day appeared screwed up. I awoke at 6.45 but still felt sleepy and sluggish. Blogging, eating brekkie of muesli and coffee during which I watched Midsomer Murders eased me into the day. It was good not to have anything really pressing on my calendar. About an hour later, I felt sleepy again and took a half hour's nap! Today is Republic Day, a public holiday in India, and everything felt very quiet as the rest of the city took it easy too.
I stopped to take a shower and bring my home back to normal after all my unpacking had been done--although I still have to put my little stroller bag away. It gets tucked into my other stacked cases that are covered with plastic and lie in the balcony--thank heavens I have that balcony. Although I barely use it, it is valuable extra space for which I am really grateful.
I had email to which I needed to respond and that took me more than an hour. It was not long before I continued working on the lesson plan for the Travel Writing Workshop I have been invited to teach at the Narsee Monjee Institute of Management Studies by my friend Celia Rodriguez who is the lecturer there. This is scheduled for next Saturday but I need to send the students some things to read prior to the class.
Receiving Sad News:
At this point, I received a call from Dad telling me about the passing away of a dear family friend who lived in the building next to his--Lieutenant-General Francis Dias who happens to be the father of my dear friend Sharon (now Rau) who lives in Toronto. I was so sorry to hear the news as he really was the nicest man and his wife, Selda, is such a lovely person and such a good friend to my late Mum and now my Dad.
Dad went across and spent about two hours with Selda as she and her daughter Fiona together with her husband Lewis began working on the funeral arrangements. The funeral will occur this coming Tuesday at 4.00 pm at our church where he will be interred with full military honors as a man who proudly served the Indian nation. The main celebrant at the Mass will be Cardinal Oswald Gracias as Francis' late brother was also a Cardinal--Cardinal Ivan Dias. In fact, if you can remember, during the time of the election of the current Pope, Ivan was tipped off as being the possible next Pope! No doubt, the church will be packed and for me, at least, it will be a very different sort of funeral to attend as I have never been to such a one.
Tuesday at 6.00 pm happened to be the time slot in which my friend and colleague Filipa Lowndes Vincente would be giving a talk on Jose Gerson da Cunha at the Prince of Wales Museum and I was keen to attend it. But, I have now decided not to go to the talk but to go to the funeral instead. The evening following the talk, I have been invited to dinner by actor and retired advertising man, Gerson da Cunha whom I have interviewed and who is the grand-nephew of Jose Gerson da Cunha who will be the subject of Filipa's lecture. She will be talking about his work as an accomplished Orientalist and her chapter in the anthology on Goa that I have edited is on the same topic. Fortunately, I also heard her speak on the same subject at the conference in Goa.
Getting on with Shopping Chores:
I then nipped out to the corner shop to pick up a loaf of multi-grain bread, some cookies, two packages of powdered Batchelor's cream soups, a packet of Maggi Masala Instant Noodles (I wanted to taste them) and some apples to set myself up for the coming week. Back home, I made myself lunch out of the Maggi Noodles, spread two crackers with blue cheese and ate those with a cup of soup! Lovely! Probably an extremely unhealthy, carb-filled meal...but I don't do this too often.
Lunch done, I continued corresponding by Whatsapp with my publisher--because yes, I have found a publisher for my next book (my non-fictional memoir of the year I spent in London, ten years ago). He is young Ishaan Jajodia who owns Bombay Kala Books. It is nice, for a change, to have a publisher who is wooing me! Ishaan is keen to get his hands on my book and to publish it and I am quite thrilled to meet with him on Monday and see what he can offer. I find him energetic, dynamic and very personable. And get this...he is all of 19 years old and an undergraduate at Dartmouth where he is majoring in International Relations. He is skipping the spring semester and will be in Bombay till the end of March and wants to finalize a deal with me before he returns to his studies!!!
I then sat down with my phone and began making all sorts of appointments for the interviews I will need to do in the month of February. Thankfully, most of them will be in the Bandra area and I do not believe I will need to return to the city as much as I did during the early months of my research. I will be devoting the coming month to work on the Bandra Zonal competitions and drama groups such as Motley and Rage. In March, I shall begin work on the Prithvi Theater Company. So there you have it...making these calls and putting dates down on my calendar felt very fulfilling as I get into the swing of my research routine again after my long break for Christmas and after.
It was after 5.00 pm when I stopped for a cuppa and a slice of cake and then I was out the door after getting dressed for a party. It would be a weird sort of evening as I had to make a condolence visit to Selda and attend a party right after it!
Making a Condolence Visit:
I stayed with Selda for about half an hour, during which time her daughter Fiona and her husband Lewis arrived. Everyone was very calm as they have reconciled themselves to the news. Selda told me that Francis has been ailing since last July although he was in Canada then and returned to Bombay in September where he was so relieved to be treated at Holy Family Hospital amidst doctors who are dedicated, caring and known to him. He found the Canadian socialized medicine system so appalling--the fact that he had to wait so long for an appointment and that only the minimum level of treatment is given in any case to avoid unnecessary burdens on the Canadian tax-payer who support the system was not something he could fathom, she said! Here, in Bombay, he was under the care of Dr. Ian D'Souza, at Holy Family Hospital who had treated Francis with nothing but the utmost care and devotion. As Ian had also treated my Mum, I am well aware of what a great doctor he is and how dedicated he is to his patients. His wife Vanessa happens to be the sister of my friend Louella (now in Vancouver and who was here in Bombay recently). I can still remember how eagerly Louella had stepped up to help me if calling her brother-in-law Ian in Bombay to introduce me to him would help my Mum's treatment. The inter-connectedness of my stay in Bombay is always very interesting to me.
After the condolence visit, I went to Dad's--he was at Mass but I spent an hour and a half with Russel discussing all sorts of things with him (mainly cricket, old neighbors that we remembered, that sort of thing) as I kept him company. Dad returned soon after and I took my leave of them as I had a party to attend.
Attending a Party Amongst Strangers:
Sometimes I quite marvel at the strange situations in which I find myself because of my willingness to embrace the unknown! So, this morning, I received a whatsapp message from Radhika, a new friend I have made here in Bombay. Radhika and I began chatting at Calcutta airport, about two months ago, when we were going through the security line. At Bombay airport, she ended up giving me a ride home in her father's car as she lives very close to me. The number of coincidences and similarities in our current lives was so amazing to us that we felt we were fated to become friends--she too is from the States, she too is in India for a year, she too is a teacher (at the American School), she too has a husband from whom she is parted for a year, she too lives in Bandra at Perry Cross Road where both she and I grew up! Well, that was it! We have been trying to meet again since then, but both she and I have also been traveling so much that meetings were proving elusive.
This morning, she told me that it was her mother's birthday today and she invited me to join the party at her brother's place at Mount Mary. I was game! And so I found myself partying among strangers!
But, of course, in Bombay, no one remains a stranger for long! It is very easy to make friends as everyone is so hospitable and welcoming. Ten minutes into the party, I felt as if I knew the hosts forever. Radhika introduced me to her mother Seema (whose birthday it was), to her brother Suraj, his wife, Manmeet and a bunch of friends including her college classmate, also Radhika, who then gave me a ride home. It was a fun opportunity to get to know a bunch of new folks and to admire a really gorgeous apartment--Manmeet is an interior designer and her apartment is flawlessly decorated!
The entire evening was catered by Olives, the restaurant at Union Park which is reputed to serve some amazing food--and indeed everything was spectacular. From the starters which included melted truffle brie on toast, chicken and prawn tikka, bruschetta of mixed peppers and tomato with goat cheese, they were stunning. I had a G and T--a really stiff one made for me by the bar man--and so many starters that by the time dinner rolled on, I (together with every one else!) was simply too full. Still, I found room for cod in oyster sauce, lamb tagine and two superb salads: Ceasar Salad with grilled chicken and a beetroot, goat cheese and orange salad (so yummy!). Desserts were the cheese cake which Seema had cut plus chocolate mousse and tiramisu (the latter two in tiny cups). Boy oh Boy! You can just imagine how floored I felt by the evening as I had expected only a small gathering of Radhika's family members and I ended up making friends with a whole bunch of great guys who were friendship personified and who really spared no expense to throw a scintillating party! We played housie together (which was also fun and a great thrill for Radhika's kids who called out the numbers) and amidst a great deal of ribbing, we really had a blast.
An Unexpected Thrill:
For me, the biggest thrill of the evening occurred when a lady came up to me, about an hour into the party, and asked me, "Excuse me, but did you ever play the piano and teach Singing and Music in a Catholic school?" I said, Yes, I did. And she said, "You know, you were my teacher! You taught me! I was in the 5th standard and you were my Singing teacher at St. Agnes' High School in Byculla." Good Lord! You could have knocked me down with a feather--I was so stunned! It turns out that she was 10 years old, I was 17! I was an undergraduate student at Elphinstone College working part-time from 1.00 to 3.00 pm four days a week at the school after I had responded to the ad it had carried in The Examiner asking for a Music Teacher! The lady who recognized me is called Tehseen Merchant. I asked her how she could possibly recognize me after all these years and despite the fact that she was only a kid when I taught her. And she proceeded to tell me that I have not aged one day since then!!! Of course she made my day! But, compliments aside, I am still marveling about coming face to face with someone I taught when I was 17 and who still recognized me without any difficulty! How glorious an experience it was is not something I can express in words!
So, you can see, it was a brilliant party! Tehseen and I exchanged phone numbers and will meet again to talk about old times at St Ag's--which incidentally, is celebrating its annual day for ex-students tomorrow and which I will be attending.
So there you have it. Radhika dropped me home and as I was making my way back to my building, I took my eye off the road ahead for a minute to peep into a passing garden when I had a spectacular fall! I went sprawling on the ground...but, thankfully, I was more embarrassed than anything else (although there was no one around at that hour--after midnight--to see me ). I was left completely unhurt. I thank God that I did not end with any broken bones or a foot injury or anything. I picked myself up with difficulty and got home to simply brush and floss my teeth and go straight to bed!
What a weird day!
Until tomorrow...
Friday, January 25, 2019
Goodbye Goa! Hello again, Bombay!
Saturday, January 25, 2019
Goa-Bombay
Goodbye Goa! Hello again, Bombay!
Namaste from Bombay!
To use a cliche, all good things must come to an end...and my stay in Goa did too. I loved staying at The Panjim Inn in the heart of the old Panjim Village that is known as Fortinhas, visiting with my old friends, meeting new academics and interacting with them at the conference, walking again in the footsteps of the colonial Portuguese at Velha Goa (Old Goa) and, today, discovering a darling place, thanks to a new travel friend Lawrence Powell who told me about it.
But first, I blogged, watched some TV (as I actually have access to cable here, which I do not have at home) to listen to desperate US Federal workers lament the closure of the US government that still continues into its 34th day! Then, I decided to get on with re-packing my case for my departure as check-out time was 10.00 am and I needed to shower and eat my breakfast before I could get on with my day. My flight was departing from Dabolim airport at 2.45 pm and since the journey there was long, I needed to get all my ducks in a row and get on with it.
Brekkie this morning was idlis with sambar and coconut chutney in the lovely dining room of The Panjim Inn that I have grown to love. I joined Lawrence at his table and could not believe that he (an IT specialist) asked my help in finding out how to highlight copy on his new little portable pc--I was actually able to tell him what to do! Some fresh fruit (watermelon and pineapple) finished up my day with a bit of a banana milkshake and some coffee. I had phoned Ashley and had made plans to meet him at the end of the road in about a half hour for our next joint expedition.
Off to Sunpuranta to see an F.N. Souza Exhibition:
Lawrence was the first person to tell me about Sunapuranta, a darling old Portuguese homestead up on a hill just behind our hotel. He had visited an exhibition on the art work of Francis Newton Souza (who is known as F.N. Souza) in this venue and had recommended it to me. Following his suggestion, both Huma and Ashley had told me that they had seen it and that the exhibition and the venue were worth visiting. I was keen to see it and this morning, just before I began my farewell journey to the airport seemed like a good time.
Accordingly, I met Ashley at the appointed spot and we set off to climb a hill and a series of stairs that reminded me very much of Mount Mary Steps in Bandra--they are shallow but very wide stairs that lead up a hill that offers lovely views of the Mandovi River. At its base is the Portuguese Consulate and there is always a line of people there waiting to submit forms to obtain Portuguese passports which they have then used as an entry into the EU nations. Ashley informed me that if your parents or grandparents were born in Goa, Daman or Diu (former Portuguese territories in India), you are eligible. Apparently, thousands of Goans and Gujaratis have left India with this document to resettle in Europe (apparently many having produced forged documents too!) Of course, now with Brexit that avenue for relocation will soon close!
Sunaparanta lies at the very top of the hill. It is a sprawling gracious bungalow, now fully refurbished in sparking whitewash with turquoise blue highlights, set in a gorgeous garden brimming over with frangipani (champa, plumeria) trees and awash with the riotous colors of bougainvillea. We climbed the curving balustraded stairs leading to the wraparound verandahs and found posters advertising the exhibition entitled 'Souza in the 40s' curated by Connor Macklin.
Regular readers of this blog will remember that about two years ago, I had made friends, while living in London, with a lovely Goan-British lady named Marcia Ribeiro, who is the daughter of Souza's half-brother Lancelot Ribeiro (they had the same mother but different fathers because when their mother lost her first husband--Souza's father--she married Ribeiro, Lancelot's father). Marcia had invited me to a retrospective on the work of her father, Lancelot Ribeiro, a far lesser known artist than the celebrated Souza, her uncle. I had enjoyed getting acquainted with Ribeiro's work at Burgh House in Hampstead and had then attended a talk at the British Library on the work of Ribeiro, Souza and Sadanand Bakhe, a Goan artist who had also settled in London, given by the agent who had represented them in London for a few years through a mobile gallery! I do not remember the agent's name. Anyway, I have known of Souza's work for many years (he was still alive and living in New York in 1989 when I had first arrived in the city and I have seen many exhibitions of his work there).
Souza at the Sunaparanta:
This exhibition represents Souza's early work--when he was just making the trajectory from Realism to Abstract Expressionism. The realistic vein of his canvases featuring scenes from Goa are rich in vivid color as seen in Gallery One. As one moves through the galleries, the work gets far more abstract. It is filled with line drawings, sketches, studies for his later (larger) works. There are a number of nudes, anatomical drawings, the visualizations of more solid compositions. By 1949, Souza became a member of the most influential artistic movement in India--the Progressive Artists Group that was wonderfully multi-cultural and multi-religious and numbered among its members all of the leading lights of the contemporary Indian arts scene--Tyeb Mehta, Raza, Ara, Hussain, Akbar Padamsee, Gaitonde and, of course, Souza. As early at the 1940s, even before Independent India's artists would find their aesthetic voice, Souza was being hailed as an influential figure. Indeed the influence of Picasso and Braque was very clearly obvious to me in his line drawings and so many of his self-portraits (imitative of portrayals of Christ) seemed directly derived from Cubism. Yes, there was the occasional landscape with its swaying coconut palms and blood-red sunsets but it was the abstractions that are most representative of the later artist he shaped up to be. I loved every bit of the exhibition and was very excited to have caught the event just before my departure from Goa.
Ashley, who accompanied me, told me that so many of his colleagues at the Times of India in Bombay, who were drinking pals of Souza, were gifted drawings by him to pay for the money he owed them when he was down and out in Bombay. Not realizing how lucrative his work would become as the decades passed, they re-gifted the drawings to other people--only to regret their generosity now at a time when Souza's works are being auctioned for small ransoms by international dealers!
We could not leave the gallery without nipping into the utterly lovely courtyard cafe called Cafe Bodega which is literally set up in the central open courtyard of the house--which offered me another architectural insight into the manner in which these Goan bungalows were constructed and conceived. Sunlight flooded the space as the aroma of coffee wafted around the tables. Ashley and I found an empty spot and ordered Americanos--I would pay dearly for my sins in the night when caffeine kept me awake until 2.00 am! Still, it was lovely to end my six-day stay in Goa in such a relaxed manner, shooting the breeze with an old friend in such a delightful space.
Return Journey to Bombay:
Sadly, we could not linger too long as I had to return to my hotel to pick up my case and get going. I was determined to use public transport and avoid being ripped off Rs. 1000 by a taxi drier to get to the airport. I had discovered from the hotel lobby that there were regular buses to the airport and I could easily get one of those from the main bus stand. So, off I went. Ashley found me a rickshaw that took me to the bus stand (for Rs. 80!!! I would have paid no more than Rs. 25 for the same five minute journey in Bombay!).
I found the bus stop to get the Vasco Shuttle bus, as it is known and for Rs. 37 (the total cost of my ticket), I would go as far as a small village call Chinchole from where I would be required to connect to another bus that would get me to Dabolim airport. The journey took me about 45 minutes as there was quite a bit of traffic held up by construction on the highway on the banks of the Zuari River close to the airport. At Chichole, I got off and found another bus pulling right up to the bus stop. I jumped into it and for Rs. 10, I was taken to the airport an dropped right opposite it! So, for Rs. 80 plus Rs. 37 plus Rs. 10--Rs 118, I got to the airport instead of paying Rs. 1,000 in the same time it would have taken me by cab--and I would have missed the adventure of traveling with the local people and getting a real feel of their lifestyles!
At the airport, I checked in really quickly and easily and make my way upstairs to the gate. At a snack bar, I picked up two Punjabi samosas and a can of Diet Coke which would serve as my lunch. The flight was right on schedule and I touched down in Bombay at exactly 4.00 pm after being treated to an incredible sighting of the grand step of Colva Beach just past the airport in Goa. The plane flew really low so I had the most stunning views of the two rivers--the Zuari and the Mandovi-- and all of the northern beaches that I had not visited on this trip. At the airport in Bombay, I hopped into a rickshaw with the confidence of an old hand at the travel game and I was at my building and in my flat about half an hour later.
Visiting with Dad and Russel:
I was feeling energetic enough to start unpacking right away and putting away items for laundry. I then had a long chat with Ashley and eventually left for Dad's place to visit with him and Russel. I gave them the goodies that Dad's fiend Joaquim had sent for Russel (bebinca) and the packet of cashew nuts that I bought for them. Dad and I then left for Mass and on my return to their place, I had dinner with them--a whole bunch of items in Dad's house from white pumpkin to ground chicken with peas to cutlets to dal! For dessert, I had an orange.
Winding Down for the Night--Not!
Dad and his housekeeper had been kind enough launder my bed and bath linen in my absence and with two bags full, I returned home to spend the next half an hour making my gigantic bed (which is always a bit of a production), changing my bath linen and putting things away.
I then decided to have an early night--yeah right! That morning's coffee at Cafe Bodega did a number on my system and my caffeine intolerance kicked in, big time. I was wide awake until 2.00 am when I actually switched the TV on and got myself a post-midnight snack of pistachios--anything to pass time and make me feel sleepy enough to actually get some shut eye!
Goa had been great fun and I was delighted that I had the unexpected trip, thanks to a fantastic conference and a very memorable launching of my book. I returned home to find an invitation to another conference from Ryan at the United States-India Education Foundation who wants to know if I would be agreeable to go to Nagpur to give a presentation! Well, if I can find the time to put a paper together--why not????
Until tomorrow...
Goa-Bombay
Goodbye Goa! Hello again, Bombay!
Namaste from Bombay!
To use a cliche, all good things must come to an end...and my stay in Goa did too. I loved staying at The Panjim Inn in the heart of the old Panjim Village that is known as Fortinhas, visiting with my old friends, meeting new academics and interacting with them at the conference, walking again in the footsteps of the colonial Portuguese at Velha Goa (Old Goa) and, today, discovering a darling place, thanks to a new travel friend Lawrence Powell who told me about it.
But first, I blogged, watched some TV (as I actually have access to cable here, which I do not have at home) to listen to desperate US Federal workers lament the closure of the US government that still continues into its 34th day! Then, I decided to get on with re-packing my case for my departure as check-out time was 10.00 am and I needed to shower and eat my breakfast before I could get on with my day. My flight was departing from Dabolim airport at 2.45 pm and since the journey there was long, I needed to get all my ducks in a row and get on with it.
Brekkie this morning was idlis with sambar and coconut chutney in the lovely dining room of The Panjim Inn that I have grown to love. I joined Lawrence at his table and could not believe that he (an IT specialist) asked my help in finding out how to highlight copy on his new little portable pc--I was actually able to tell him what to do! Some fresh fruit (watermelon and pineapple) finished up my day with a bit of a banana milkshake and some coffee. I had phoned Ashley and had made plans to meet him at the end of the road in about a half hour for our next joint expedition.
Off to Sunpuranta to see an F.N. Souza Exhibition:
Lawrence was the first person to tell me about Sunapuranta, a darling old Portuguese homestead up on a hill just behind our hotel. He had visited an exhibition on the art work of Francis Newton Souza (who is known as F.N. Souza) in this venue and had recommended it to me. Following his suggestion, both Huma and Ashley had told me that they had seen it and that the exhibition and the venue were worth visiting. I was keen to see it and this morning, just before I began my farewell journey to the airport seemed like a good time.
Accordingly, I met Ashley at the appointed spot and we set off to climb a hill and a series of stairs that reminded me very much of Mount Mary Steps in Bandra--they are shallow but very wide stairs that lead up a hill that offers lovely views of the Mandovi River. At its base is the Portuguese Consulate and there is always a line of people there waiting to submit forms to obtain Portuguese passports which they have then used as an entry into the EU nations. Ashley informed me that if your parents or grandparents were born in Goa, Daman or Diu (former Portuguese territories in India), you are eligible. Apparently, thousands of Goans and Gujaratis have left India with this document to resettle in Europe (apparently many having produced forged documents too!) Of course, now with Brexit that avenue for relocation will soon close!
Sunaparanta lies at the very top of the hill. It is a sprawling gracious bungalow, now fully refurbished in sparking whitewash with turquoise blue highlights, set in a gorgeous garden brimming over with frangipani (champa, plumeria) trees and awash with the riotous colors of bougainvillea. We climbed the curving balustraded stairs leading to the wraparound verandahs and found posters advertising the exhibition entitled 'Souza in the 40s' curated by Connor Macklin.
Regular readers of this blog will remember that about two years ago, I had made friends, while living in London, with a lovely Goan-British lady named Marcia Ribeiro, who is the daughter of Souza's half-brother Lancelot Ribeiro (they had the same mother but different fathers because when their mother lost her first husband--Souza's father--she married Ribeiro, Lancelot's father). Marcia had invited me to a retrospective on the work of her father, Lancelot Ribeiro, a far lesser known artist than the celebrated Souza, her uncle. I had enjoyed getting acquainted with Ribeiro's work at Burgh House in Hampstead and had then attended a talk at the British Library on the work of Ribeiro, Souza and Sadanand Bakhe, a Goan artist who had also settled in London, given by the agent who had represented them in London for a few years through a mobile gallery! I do not remember the agent's name. Anyway, I have known of Souza's work for many years (he was still alive and living in New York in 1989 when I had first arrived in the city and I have seen many exhibitions of his work there).
Souza at the Sunaparanta:
This exhibition represents Souza's early work--when he was just making the trajectory from Realism to Abstract Expressionism. The realistic vein of his canvases featuring scenes from Goa are rich in vivid color as seen in Gallery One. As one moves through the galleries, the work gets far more abstract. It is filled with line drawings, sketches, studies for his later (larger) works. There are a number of nudes, anatomical drawings, the visualizations of more solid compositions. By 1949, Souza became a member of the most influential artistic movement in India--the Progressive Artists Group that was wonderfully multi-cultural and multi-religious and numbered among its members all of the leading lights of the contemporary Indian arts scene--Tyeb Mehta, Raza, Ara, Hussain, Akbar Padamsee, Gaitonde and, of course, Souza. As early at the 1940s, even before Independent India's artists would find their aesthetic voice, Souza was being hailed as an influential figure. Indeed the influence of Picasso and Braque was very clearly obvious to me in his line drawings and so many of his self-portraits (imitative of portrayals of Christ) seemed directly derived from Cubism. Yes, there was the occasional landscape with its swaying coconut palms and blood-red sunsets but it was the abstractions that are most representative of the later artist he shaped up to be. I loved every bit of the exhibition and was very excited to have caught the event just before my departure from Goa.
Ashley, who accompanied me, told me that so many of his colleagues at the Times of India in Bombay, who were drinking pals of Souza, were gifted drawings by him to pay for the money he owed them when he was down and out in Bombay. Not realizing how lucrative his work would become as the decades passed, they re-gifted the drawings to other people--only to regret their generosity now at a time when Souza's works are being auctioned for small ransoms by international dealers!
We could not leave the gallery without nipping into the utterly lovely courtyard cafe called Cafe Bodega which is literally set up in the central open courtyard of the house--which offered me another architectural insight into the manner in which these Goan bungalows were constructed and conceived. Sunlight flooded the space as the aroma of coffee wafted around the tables. Ashley and I found an empty spot and ordered Americanos--I would pay dearly for my sins in the night when caffeine kept me awake until 2.00 am! Still, it was lovely to end my six-day stay in Goa in such a relaxed manner, shooting the breeze with an old friend in such a delightful space.
Return Journey to Bombay:
Sadly, we could not linger too long as I had to return to my hotel to pick up my case and get going. I was determined to use public transport and avoid being ripped off Rs. 1000 by a taxi drier to get to the airport. I had discovered from the hotel lobby that there were regular buses to the airport and I could easily get one of those from the main bus stand. So, off I went. Ashley found me a rickshaw that took me to the bus stand (for Rs. 80!!! I would have paid no more than Rs. 25 for the same five minute journey in Bombay!).
I found the bus stop to get the Vasco Shuttle bus, as it is known and for Rs. 37 (the total cost of my ticket), I would go as far as a small village call Chinchole from where I would be required to connect to another bus that would get me to Dabolim airport. The journey took me about 45 minutes as there was quite a bit of traffic held up by construction on the highway on the banks of the Zuari River close to the airport. At Chichole, I got off and found another bus pulling right up to the bus stop. I jumped into it and for Rs. 10, I was taken to the airport an dropped right opposite it! So, for Rs. 80 plus Rs. 37 plus Rs. 10--Rs 118, I got to the airport instead of paying Rs. 1,000 in the same time it would have taken me by cab--and I would have missed the adventure of traveling with the local people and getting a real feel of their lifestyles!
At the airport, I checked in really quickly and easily and make my way upstairs to the gate. At a snack bar, I picked up two Punjabi samosas and a can of Diet Coke which would serve as my lunch. The flight was right on schedule and I touched down in Bombay at exactly 4.00 pm after being treated to an incredible sighting of the grand step of Colva Beach just past the airport in Goa. The plane flew really low so I had the most stunning views of the two rivers--the Zuari and the Mandovi-- and all of the northern beaches that I had not visited on this trip. At the airport in Bombay, I hopped into a rickshaw with the confidence of an old hand at the travel game and I was at my building and in my flat about half an hour later.
Visiting with Dad and Russel:
I was feeling energetic enough to start unpacking right away and putting away items for laundry. I then had a long chat with Ashley and eventually left for Dad's place to visit with him and Russel. I gave them the goodies that Dad's fiend Joaquim had sent for Russel (bebinca) and the packet of cashew nuts that I bought for them. Dad and I then left for Mass and on my return to their place, I had dinner with them--a whole bunch of items in Dad's house from white pumpkin to ground chicken with peas to cutlets to dal! For dessert, I had an orange.
Winding Down for the Night--Not!
Dad and his housekeeper had been kind enough launder my bed and bath linen in my absence and with two bags full, I returned home to spend the next half an hour making my gigantic bed (which is always a bit of a production), changing my bath linen and putting things away.
I then decided to have an early night--yeah right! That morning's coffee at Cafe Bodega did a number on my system and my caffeine intolerance kicked in, big time. I was wide awake until 2.00 am when I actually switched the TV on and got myself a post-midnight snack of pistachios--anything to pass time and make me feel sleepy enough to actually get some shut eye!
Goa had been great fun and I was delighted that I had the unexpected trip, thanks to a fantastic conference and a very memorable launching of my book. I returned home to find an invitation to another conference from Ryan at the United States-India Education Foundation who wants to know if I would be agreeable to go to Nagpur to give a presentation! Well, if I can find the time to put a paper together--why not????
Until tomorrow...
A Day Spent Visiting Friends in Goa
Thursday, January 24, 2019
Goa
A Day Spent Visiting Friends in Goa:
Namaste from Goa!
I am glad I gave myself one more day to spend in Goa instead of rushing back to Bombay as this provided me the opportunity to visit friends. At the top of the list was Debbie, a very old friend of Llew (and, of course, me). Llew happens to be the godfather off her son, Brett, who is based now in Bombay. Debbie runs a salon in Porvorim, Goa, and it was to the salon that she invited me. As it turns out, my Dad’s friend Joaquim and his wife Nattie, also live in Porvorim—so I would be able to kill two birds with one pebble!
Using Public Transport to Get to Porvorim:
However, I was unwilling to get ripped off by a cab or rickshaw driver. Also, I have lived in Bombay for more than four months now and I do feel like a local. Plus, in Bombay, I have mastered the use of public transport; so I was determined to find my way to Porvorim by the local bus. Besides, to my mind, as a seasoned world traveler, it is always more fun and adventurous when you travel like the local people do!
In the dining rom of The Panjim Inn, I had a cheese and mushroom omelette for breakfast with sautéed vegetables, sautéed mushrooms and potato wedges followed by fruit and coffee. Lawrence was also in the dining room—so I joined him at his table. Right after breakfast, he was leaving to catch his Hop On Hop Off bus for the second day of his touring—this time to the northern beaches. He told me that he could direct me to the public bus stand—so off we went right after breakfast.
In ten minutes, I said goodbye to Lawrence and went in search of my bus. I made one inquiry of a bunch of guys standing around: Where can I find the bus to Porvorim? And immediately, they pointed out a bus that was leaving. I ran towards it, hopped in and was on my way. We crossed the great Mandovi River on a lovely bridge and arrived on the other side. Another fifteen minutes later, I was at Coqeuiro Circle where Debbie asked me to alight and in no time at all, because her directions were so good, I found her salon—Studio Deborah—on the first floor of a building on the main road.
Visiting with Debbie:
Debbie arrived soon enough and we spent a while chatting. Because she is a skilled hair dresser, I asked her if she would trim my hair and she was more than willing to do so. Accordingly, I got my hair shampooed by one of her assistants and, in no more at all, she had given me a two inch trim all around which made my hair look so much more streamlined. Great! She would not let me pay her and so I decided to take her for lunch to O Coqeuiro, a landmark restaurant that gives its name to the circle at the bus-stop.
After we had spent about an hour there, Debbie told me that she would take me on her motor bike to her home which was five minutes away. I was keen to see her daughter Scarlet who, following a tragic accident, about 15 years ago, has been in a coma all along. I found Scarlet much better than when I had last seen her—she was far more responsive than I remember for she stirred quite strongly when she heard Debbie’s voice and felt her touch. I spent about fifteen minutes with her and then, Debbie and I continued to chat before it was time for lunch.
Lunch at O Coqeuiro:
Debbie filled me in on whatever happened in her life since the last time we met which was about ten years ago. We ordered the most delectable Prawn Balchao with Mushroom and Cashew Nut Xacuti served with two types of Goan bread: Pao and Poi. We ordered fresh lime sodas with our lunch. It was all delicious but, as is happening quite often now, I overeat and then feel the ill-effects of heartburn. After we had spent about two mourns over lunch, I called Joaquim, my Dad’s friend, who arrived in his car to pick me up and take me to his house. Debbie and I said goodbye and as she left, Joaquim and I drove off to his.
Visiting my Dad’s Friends:
I had never met Joaquim or Nattie before but they happened to have become pretty friendly with my father just before they relocated to Goa, following retirement, about two years ago. They seem to have settled quite well in a small apartment which they seemed to have bought a few years ago. Their daughter lives close by and because she has a two-year old, they are quite pleased to be living in Goa. Everywhere I went, people lamented the fact that Goa has changed for the worse—like all parts of the world, it has become more crowded, more traffic-ridden, more corrupt, they said. I stayed with them for about an hour—and then they drove me to their daughter Guinevra’s place. Her daughter is called Jovana ! At their place, I stayed for about half an hour and then I decided to take my leave. They very kindly offered to drop me back to Panjim as they insisted that it was only 15 minutes away. So, there was I, being dropped quite conveniently to my hotel in Panjim where I reached at about 5.00 pm.
Off For a Talk at the Fondacao Orient:
My friend Ashley had called, earlier in the day, to find out if I was interested in accompanying him to a talk at the Fondacao Orient, a Portuguese cultural center, just a few minutes walk from our hotel. I told Ashley that I badly needed a nap before I set off again and indeed after a 20 minute shuteye, I felt rejuvenated.
Ashley met me in the lobby of my hotel and we walked together past the village that is known as Fontinhas where my hotel is located to the spot. The location is lovely and and the old homestead in which it is set is just gorgeous. It is an old Portuguese home with wide verandahs and wrought-iron Juliet balconies that hold a series of cultural events all year round.
The talk I would attend was on fortified houses (including castles) and traditional architecture in Portugal, Brazil and Goa—there were actually two talks given by two different Portuguese scholars who names I cannot remember but they were both interesting. I was amazed how well attended the event was and how many folks seemed to have come from far away to listen to the speakers. A very sweet person called Inez runs the place and she introduced the speakers before the lectures began. I found myself thrilled to recognize the castle of Pena in Sintra near Lisbon that I had visited a few years ago as well as the beach-fronted manors of Cascais—also near Lisbon. I was really very glad that Ashley suggested I attend this talk with him as so many of the professors from Portugal and Brazil who had attended our conference was also at the venue. The talk was preceded by tea, coffee, juice and biscuits which allowed many of the attendees to visit with each other. Ashley knew a number of the folks as he is very well connected through his life as a former Goa representative of the Times of India based in Panjim.
Dinner at Club Nationale:
After the talk, Ashley and I were supposed to meet my Fulbright colleague Huma, who decided to join us for dinner on my last night in Goa. Again, it was Ashley who suggested Club Nationale, one of the old Clubs dating from Portuguese times that has been recently refurbished. He said that the food was essentially Goan and that it was very good. And he was right.
This time round, the three of us—Ashley, Huma and myself—shared Goan Sausage Pullao, Chicken Cafrael, Beef Rouladine (also known as Beef Olives) and Sanaas—the slightly-sweetish rice cakes that go well with Goan curries. The food was predictably good. To finish off, we shared Sera Dura and Caramel Custard and they were both good. Huma decided to treat us to the meal and did not allow us to divide the cost—which was very generous of her indeed.
It did not take us long to part company as Huma dropped me off in a rickshaw to my hotel. I did not waste too much time before falling straight off to sleep.
Until tomorrow...
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