| Conversations With Mamaji - January 2003 HOME | ||
| Introduction
|
Introduction In January 2003, I finally make good a promise I had made to myself in that I would record conversations with my Mamaji (full name Harbhajan Singh Bhatia), who has during my whole life, as far back as I can remember, made my life worth living, contributed massively to my personality, and entertained the entire family in such a way that, whereever we meet we always remember him, often laughing histerically in remembering his stories, and mostly with fond memories. Below is a transcript of what I recorded, and to the left there is a loosely based list of the main sections in the recordings. There is a lot of overlap, and the conversations dont always follow any predefined cronology. Main characters are Mamaji - Maternal Uncle (Mom's younger brother) also known as Bhatia Sahib (Beeji was my maternal grandmother) AuntyJi - Mrs. Mamaji's Popy & Deepi (Mamaji's kids, my cousins) Popy's boys are also in Delhi, and Deepi is here with Parveen (hubby) and her boys Mom & Dad (also known as Bawa Sahib) Guddi & Birinder sis & Mr Pammi & Chanda bro & Mrs The Spanish contingent - Apart from Marisol, Montse (sis), and friends Jone and Pablo are in Delhi
At a dinner (where most of us are present) we all have a glass of a Marques de Riscal Reserva 1998, which I had brought from England. Mamaji makes a small speech ‘Ladies and Gentlemen – I don’t think I will make a long speech – You are here in a house that you may not find a soft bed! Of course there is a method of having a soft bed for Marisol (Marisol’s requirements for a soft bed had by now caused quite a stir). We can all lie down and she can lie over us (laughter). I have’nt drunk anything so don’t mistake that I am drunk. I am in my senses, and this can be certified by Dicky, whose wine we have just been drinking. I only wish that he can come every month and bring one or two bottles of this stuff. It wont cost him much (referring to the free ticket Marisol had on the Virgin Miles). One last thing I would like to say, there was an old lady like your Aunty (referring to his other half), and she was trying to cross a road with the lights red, and is approached by a policemen, who says that he is whistling but she does not take any notice. She replies that when she was young many men whistled and she did’nt bother, so now that she was old, how was she going to care if he whistled. Then DaddyJi is asked to make a toast He decides to make a prayer – Thanking God for the gifts of life, Marriage and family. Gifts of air, water and food to sustain our lives, gift from brother to sister, and more than all the gifts of grandchildren. Next a speech from Birinder Bheno, bhravo (Sisters and Brothers), bazurgo (seniors), what I would like to say is that it has been a very pleasant homecoming. I think India with all its faults is still a nice place, with family and family values and I have really felt good about it. With all the dirt and squalor you see in the street, the people are still wonderful. That is my genuine opinion about India. God bless this country, its still our home and we are very proud of it. Guddi – I don’t have much to say except something quite emotional in that its been a very very rough year for us at a personal level. There are a lot of good things and a lot of bad things that happened to us. Finally everything is well that ends well and today is the day that everything is ending well. We are blessed and we have to see the positives in life, we are all healthy, kicking and living, and lets hope that we can do this again and again. Lets try and be together every other year. Popy Deepi and Dicky and I can come over and be with Pammi, or Pammi can come to Australia when we go there, ie we coordinate so that we are together every couple of years. Dicky (that’s me) – I am still half asleep (we had just arrived), I think the best thing of this particular moment is that the three of us (Pammi, Guddi & I) are together. Also we missed Mamaji the last time we were here and that was a great missed opportunity, and we hope to make up for it this time. With Deepi meeting us tomorrow the only one missing is Popy. Our own Manjeet and Anil need to be with this family also. Its been an interesting year for us in that 2 of us finished our degrees this year (Anil & Marisol) . And I would like to thank everyone for having us, putting us up, feeding us etc. (Mom says that its not hers but our home so no need to say that). Marisol – I am really happy to be here, everyone has had their ups and downs, but here we are in the new year, smiling, with new jobs and happy, lets hope that this continues for many years. Pammi – I am the little guy in the family and I am thankful to Dicky and Guddi that when they come they make me feel like a little kid, which is nice. Helps to forget for a while the responsibilities and tensions of life, being a father and having a family. So I always enjoy when the Bro and Sis are here. And Birinder also, its wonderful to have you back after so many years, and after all that you have been through healthwise, so had to make an effort. Its been a tough year for me, perhaps as tough a year as Virji (Birinder), but I am still standing and full of optimism, and wish that we can do this more often. Deedi was saying every couple of years, I hope we could do it every year. Chanda – I am overwhelmed that we are here together, specially Birinder Virji, who has come after so many years, last time he was here at our wedding, it has been really long and hope he flies down more frequently. Life here is really hectic and you all know what we have been through. I am really enjoying what I am doing, that is important and everything else will take care of itself. I am positive about the future, even more than Pammi, and looking forward to this year to see what it rolls out for us. AuntyJi – Like Bhraji (Dad) I thank God Almighty that has brought us all together. And I thank you all for making the effort to be here and make this possible. Mom – I am really happy, but I am thinking of Popy, who should have been here and we would have enjoyed enjoyed even more. Gurvansh & Sohail – We really love you all. Thank God India won today (Cricket). I am really happy I am in India and with our family. Mamaji – Talking about speeches, I remember the story about a new minister in the government who calls his Personal Assistant and asks him to write him a speech. Its his first speech so he says he does not want it very long. After the speech was written and delivered he returned to his office and told the PA ‘I told you to write a small speech and you wrote me such a long speech’. PA replies ‘Sir, I gave you three copies of the speech’. Another time in Ghana (and this really happened) there was a meeting at the Institution of Engineers. The President started making a speech. Some one shouted out ‘Sir, that is the same speech you gave last year’. The President in apology said ‘ Oh I had to send my suit for drycleaning which did not come back in time and I had to put on an old suit. It must have the old speech still in its pocket.’ Pammi then tells the story of a guy who stood up to make a speech at a convention, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen I would like to share a few thoughts with you. Potatoes are 2 Kilos for one pound fifty – Oh I am sorry this is my wife’s shopping list!’. Sumer – I love you all! Sohrab – There is a general recall of a story when a girl in the Schoolbus tells Sohrab ‘Moteya beth ja’ (Fatso, sit down). Sohrab remains quiet until the girl is about to get off the bus when he comes up with ‘Motiye (Fatso) Have a nice day’
Mamaji then recounts a story from his childhood – I was about 8 years old. Fortunately or unfortunately I got good marks for the first time in a school test, and everybody was really excited that I had got good marks. I had another friend who was the son of a Deputy Superintendent of Police, who also passed the test. So we were given two and a half rupees by my grandfather, and the same amount by the father of my friend making five rupees in total. Now five rupees was a very big amount (in 1941) and we wondered what to do with the money. We decided to buy fireworks, as Diwali was coming so there were lots be had at the time. So went to a shop, and there was Sardar ji, who normally did’nt wear a turban, had only a few hair and a small beard. His name was Biloo Singh. When we told him that we wanted to buy fireworks, his face lit up ‘Five Rupees?! You are going to buy Five rupees worth’ – Yes we said – ‘Sit down’ and he began to show us all kinds of fire crackers. Then he showed us a match box, and explained when you light the matches they would make a lot of coloured light. I said let me try one, and I lit one without realising the danger. Of course the sparks fell on the fireworks and they began to go off in every direction. Everyone ran for their lives and the shop was completely ruined. I too ran with one of my slippers in my hand and the other left behind and got home. Biloo Singh then came to see my Grand father and told him ‘Mein mar gaya ji, mein lutya gaya ji’ (I am dead, I am ruined). I had gone to bed pretending to be ill, so my Grand Father did’nt believe him at first and told him to leave (dhor ja tun). The man persisted and after several visits they finally gave him something like three rupees. He was’nt a happy man. Mamaji tells the story of the dog thrown in the well In Bawa Sahib’s village his brother’s marriage was happening, so we all went there. There was a well in the village, and I saw a small dog walking at the edge of the well. I don’t know why but I pushed it into the well. Thinking that someone might be angry I ran home. Now people used to drink water from this well, and after three days people began to notice that the water had a bad smell. They emptied the well and found the dog. Later I had to admit that it was me who had done it. Mamaji continues – The dogs in Bawa Sahib’s village were well trained (laughter)– proceeds to tell how they would cleanup the mess around the village in a way which is too horrible to recount here (more laughter). Dad asks and this only in my village? Pammi now adds, now you know why Dad left for Africa (everyone is in fits of laughter). Jokes with Deepi and everyone at home Sardarji watching a movie and just when a naughty bit is about to happen a train comes by to hide the action. Sardarji comes to see the movie everyday for a week. Someone asks him, Sardarji you have seen the movie why are you coming everyday? He says that he is hoping that one of these days the train will be late. Neil Armstrong Jokes On the moon Neil lands and finds a Gujarati Bhai, ‘Kem Che’ surprised he asks what are you doing here. Well after opening a motel in the US, I lost all my money so I came to the moon. Neil continues and finds a Sardarji drying his hair in the sun. And you?..he asks. ‘Asi Partition to bad athe aa gae si’ (I came here after the partition) And the more well known ‘Good luck Mr Brodski’ from me. Sohail tells a joke A New York Taxi driver dies and goes to heaven. He is given the best treatment by St Peter, the best hotel suite etc. After a while the Pope dies and St Peter looks down and sends him to a room on the far side of heaven. The Pope is offended and asks why he is being treated so badly. The reply comes that when the Pope preaches people fall asleep, whereas when the the Taxi man drives, people pray. Mamaji tells his ‘bazurgo bari nitch mari je’ story (Old man, that was quite a sneeze) We went to a wedding with a ‘baraat’ (Boy’s wedding party), and we were sitting at tables for lunch. My cousin Gurcharan was also on the same table and another old gent who we did not know also joined us at our table. We were talking and the sweet dish ‘karah or halwa’ came and they said to the old man, ‘sardarji eh karah khao, bari khan wali chiz e’ (here eat this it is really worth eating). The old man commented ‘han ji aj kal te karah nu vekh ke logan no sap lar janda’ (sure, now a days when people see this dish its as if a snake has bitten them) !!. He starts eating the dish, and we kept putting more on his plate. At one point he began make signs of wanting to sneeze. Now his mouth was full of this stuff and he lets off this almighty sneeze. Gurcharan & I immidiately put our plates below the table, but that ‘karah’ flew everywhere, in our faces, beards, table, you name it. Gurcharan then comments ‘bazurgo bari nitch mari je, hor karah lao’ (Old man that was quite a sneeze, here have some more) Everyone is laughing hysterically. Deepi tells another story about Gurcharan Uncle. Gurcharan uncle came to have lunch with us one time and after lunch he says ‘Bhraji do you remember the British Raj?’ Papaji said yes of course I remember. Gurcharan Uncle continues ‘Do you remember those Babus who did the accounts with their pencils, and when the pencil got really small, they would go to chief and ask for a new one?’. Yes of course agreed Papaji. At this point Gurcharan Uncle takes out a small piece of soap out of his pocket and says ‘Then perhaps I can ask for a new soap, as this one is all used up’ much to the embarrassment of Papaji. More laughter. Mamaji continues with the next story There was this woman who was on a trip and a bus driver made a remark like, Wow what a beautiful woman. The woman got angry and says you just wait I am going to take my shoe off and I am going to come and…the driver quickly replied ‘Hey lady, this is not a temple, so don’t take your shoes off, just come as you are’. Pammi tells the next story Once a Bhai Sahib was going along on a bicycle. He comes across a stream and another Sardarji is bathing in the nude. So the cyclist says ‘Sardar sahib Satsri Akal, you are bathing in the nude? At least you should have a katch (underpants)’. The bather points to his armpit (also katch in panjabi) and says ‘here is my katch’, The cyclist says ‘not that one, the other one’ whereupon the bather points to his other armpit. ‘No, No no, I mean the one that the Guru gave us’ says the cyclist, when the bather replies ‘And these two do you think your father gave me?’ Mamaji tells a story of a woman who approaches a bus and asks the driver ‘is the bus ready?’, and gets the reply ‘sure lady, we don’t have to put any lipstick, we are always ready!’. Guddi gets into the act and tells this story. There was a poor woodcutter who had an axe. The axe fell into a river, and he could not get it out so he is stting on the bank and crying, his livelyhood is lost. Now he is a very nice man and God is watching, he comes down and appears and asks what the matter is. The man explains the loss of his axe, whereupon God agrees to help, puts his hand in the river and pulls out a golden axe. ‘Is this your axe?’ asks God. The man being relly honest says that it is not and that his was wooden. God puts the axe aside and again puts his hand in the river and pulls out a silver axe and says ‘Is this the one?’. Once again the woodcutter says no and that his was wooden, cut very well and that he knew how to work with it etc. God finally pulls out the wooden one at the sight of which the poor man is overjoyed. God now proceeds to reveal himself and gives the gold and silver axes to the poor man who is very happy and goes back to work, is very successful and gets rich. Many years later God sees him sitting by the river and crying once again. ‘Now what is the matter, I thought you were happy’. The man explains that his wife has fallen into the river and that he is totally lost without her. Now God puts his hand in the river and pulls out Ashwarya Roy (a famous film actress). The man immediately accepts ‘yes that is the one’. God is astonished and asks what happened to him that he used to be so honest. ‘I know this is not your wife so why?’. The man explains ‘you are going to pull out these beautiful women and then my wife, and I will have to take them all home. Now that would be a real mess! I will just take this first one home instead’. Mamaji continues A woman comes home one day and finds that her husband is missing. He does not show up for a couple of days. In the end she, accompanied by a friend, goes to the police and expplains her loss. They ask her to dscribe the man. She says he is tall handsome and fair etc. Later the friend asks why did you say all that, when your husband is just the opposite, short, ugly and dark? The woman explains that here was an opportunity to get a new husband, if they were going to find the man, he might well be what she wanted instead of the real one. Gurvansh tells a joke It’s the 2006 world cup. Its Brazil vs England in the final. Ronaldo comes into the changing rooms to find his team mates really sad. ‘What’s the matter we are in the final, why the sadness’. The team mates explain ‘There is no motivation, we have to play only England’. Ronaldo says ‘Ok Ok I will play England on my own and you guys go have a few drinks at the hotel’. The teammates are drinking at the hotel, after a while they want to know how Ronaldo is doing. They ask the bartender to turn on the TV and it appears that Ronaldo is winning 8-0. At half time its 24-0. Ronaldo is doing allright. They switch off and another hour later return to see the final score which is 24-20. Shocked they rush to the stadium where Ronaldo is sitting sadly in the dressing room. What happened they ask. ‘Well I got bored at half time and did’nt play in the second half’. In another version the final score is 24-1. This time Ronaldo explains that he got a red card in the 47th minute and England scored in the 89th minute. At this time I tell my story about the time soon after returning from Venezuela, I went to the London Sikh temple in Shepherds Bush. At the end of the service I was walking back to the car when I noticed something moving about inside my shoes. I should explain that you have to remove your shoes at the temple, and having just returned from the tropics I was paranoid about cockroaches and similar creepies getting in the shoes. I was sure this must have happened but was afraid to look in the dark. I started walking faster but the ‘creepy’ began to move around in my shoe even more. At some point I could not stand it any more, took off the shoe and threw it away from me. To my surprise a small coin rolled out of the shoe!! At this point Guddi and Marisol remember Montse’s jokes, usually unrepeatable, dirty and filthy. They remember jokes about running out of toilet paper and the poem that goes ‘tengo un moco lo saco poco a poco’. Marisol explains how when in Spain we arrive home, up the lift everyone dying to make pee is when Montse tells her jokes. Everyone wanting her to stop and nearly not making it to the bathroom in time! Mamaji's jokes can be bad too for example the Ladies toilets sign at a Sikh Temple – ‘Bibiyan diyan Tatian’ Deepi’s son Anjan comes up with a military song ‘Me not stupid me not dumb me hold on to Daddy’s bum Daddy goes psss and I go boom That’s how I got home so soon’ Sohail – There was a family that chartered a private jet and it developed a problem. So the parents jumped off the plane leaving a baby behind. Later much to their relief the baby drifts down singing ‘Me not stupid me not dumb, me take nappy off my bum’. Marisol & I remember the time Bali Sahib, Sangeeta’s Dad and a bossman in the railways, (God bless him – it was the anniversary of his passing away while we were in Delhi – hence this recollection) insisted on arranging tickets for a big group of us to go by train to Agra. We arrived at the Delhi railway station at – which is a daunting experience at the best of times – very early in the morning to find that our names were not on the train reservations list. The printed tickets had everything including our seat numbers but other people holding tickets with the same seat numbers were already sitting in them. Those of you familiar with India can appreciate what this means, but suffice to say that we had a very interesting trip. Everyone was in a different place in the packed train, even our 5 and 8 year old kids sat by themselves in remote seats. Mamaji recounts his experience of a train journey back from a work trip with a couple of his colleagues. They had tickets in the air conditioned car for the train to Delhi, but found that the train was delayed. After waiting for a couple of hours they decided to stay the night. As soon as they had got a refund, the train arrived (murphy’s law). Now it seemed the best thing to do was to get on the train – but no tickets. So they walked up to the train attendant and Mamaji says to him " I’m H.S.Bhatia" and they make up a story about losing their tickets and the train attendant can see their names on the reservations list. The attendant says ‘you all can get on – we will figure something out’. Turns out the attendant (sohri-da) wants them to pay 2700 Rupees each and for tickets purchased on the train there is no senior citizen discount. After a while the attendant comes and sits with them to negotiate. Of course Mamaji and his entourage want to get their discount, and to convince the attendant tell him that they know the Chief of Railways (Rana Sahib – who knows if that is true or invented). The attendant makes tickets for them from a station half way to Delhi, so that they effectively get a 50% discount. Everyone is happy. This story stays in the coversation for some time – at one time Mamaji says ‘do you know the attendant had the nerve to tell me that after 11pm the 30% discount for seniors could not be had’. Daddyji then says so instead you got a 50% discount. I pipe in that if AuntyJi had been present she would have got a 75% discount (such awesome is her negotiating reputation). Then Mamaji explains how good the train was, clean, warm (it was winter and cold outside) and clean sheets etc. I tell the story of our driver in Delhi taking us to the centre where we were finding it hard to park when we spotted an empty carpark. We drove up and a couple of men sat guarding the parking lot. ‘It’s a government car park’ and it did’nt appear to be possible to park until we offered 20 Rupees ( about 25P) cash and were allowed in. There is news of Deepi and Parveen, they have had to spend a day in Teipei on their way back to Sydney. Auntyji asks Marisol what we have done today. We had gone to see an exhibition of sculptures and paintings at the Treveni Auditorium. Then we had lunch at the Quality restaurant in Connaught Place (the parking lot story belongs here) in New Delhi. This was followed by walking along the Janpath Market. I ask what ‘sohri-da’ translates to in English – ‘Son of Mother-in-law’ Suddenly a phone call from Deepi in Teipei!! Mamaji is talking about airport and other names (hor koi kam I nahin-bara kuta kam) Delhi – Indra Gandhi International Mumbai – Chattarpati Sewaji International Chenai – Thriu Mopanar Airport Lok Naik Jaiparkash Narain Hospital – You could be dying but may not be able to remember the name of the hospital! Cannaught Place has been renamed to Rajiv Chowk and Indra Gandhi Chowk The Kalka Ji extension where Dad lives is being renamed Rajiv Enclave. Dad says he always puts Kalka Ji for his address, which many people find embarrasing as a name because of past associations. There used be a shantytown called Gobindpuri nearby but now is quite a good place with a college. Pammi studied at the college. Mamaji jokes that you don’t need sit exams to get your degree at that college. You just walk up to the teachers and threaten them. This reminds us of a real experience my cousin Jasbir, who used to be teacher at a college in Gorakhpur, similarly threatened at the time of exams, had to leave the college and relocate to escape the threats. Ended up in Sunyani in Ghana, where we went to visit him often from Kumasi. What a life – who would have thought that we would end up in Kumasi. Opokuware Secondary School & University of Science & Technology! Jasbir is now in Kanpur – we joke about his problems with a bank in London, could’nt get them to send his money to Kanpur, Punjab. Maybe they had never heard of the place. Jasbir wanted me to go to his bank find out details of his account. I had to convince him that the bank would not reveal to third parties. I can just imagine the phone conversation. There is a lot of joking about banks, money, Kanpur and lost funds that would be meaningless to recount but there is a great feeling of warmth and fun that can only be felt when you are among those you feel at home with. Mamaji suddenly remembers a visit to London, he invites me to come and dine with him at his hotel in Marble Arch. I am a poor student (or even poorer worker – I cant remember which). I recall that the restaurant waiters did’nt want to even look at me. Oh my god I had no jacket or necktie – can you imagine and there was noone else in the restaurant! Mamajii is saying – ‘I enquired that I have my nephew and he is not wearing a suit’ and they told him ‘that’s OK bring him’. Mamaji says to me 'come on lets go and have dinner' and I told him ‘this is a posh place and I have no tie’ but he said ‘Mar goli don’t worry lets go’. We went. ‘There was a man at the door of the restaurant and he says we cant go in!’ Did’nt I tell you! Mamaji has a real slanging match with the manager – in the end they let us in and suffer a long evening – we eat at leisure – the waiters want to go home and stare at us. We take our time. Next time Mamaji came to London Marisol & I were married and both of us went to meet him. Mamaji remembers the hotel this time had a machine where you could put money in and get a meal. It seems to be unrelated but Mamaji then remembers that that very day he had lost all his travellers cheques, and that there had been a series of thefts from several hotels and the story of the thefts had appeared in the newspapers. I had lost about 400 pounds but they were replaced with the help of Harbans Singh Ji, Mamaji’s friend from his student days in London. Mamaji says, ‘Ved Prakash’ a colleague was with him staying at the hotel. He continues ‘Ved Prakash is sitting in the room in his Katcha (underpants)’. He got the breakfast delivered to his room. I said to him lets not go downstairs, and let them bring it to the room. I don’t know what happened, he either wanted some more toast or something but he comes out of his room (In his underpants) with a toast in his hand somehow the room door shuts behind him. Mamaji says ‘I called the lobby to say that they should send someone with a master key to led Ved Prakash back into his room but they said because of the security (the thefts mentioned before) he would need to go down to the lobby to sign a register (in his underpants? – yes, does’nt matter!). Ved Prakash is hopping mad. I tell him to at least eat his toast but he flings it to the floor ‘what a country’ (and what a sight in his geometric pattern underpants!). Bahut galan kadian. I had to go down and argue with the manager & explain that the situation was desperate and that the ladies would be most upset at the sight of this man appear nearly naked in the hotel lobby. In the end they came and opened his door. I comment that England is very peculiar country, but Mamaji insists that it was Ved Prakash who was peculiar. He continues with a story about a visit to Yemen, also with Ved Prakash, as acting chairman of the Indian Airports Authority, to sign a contract. He asked ‘Mr Bhatia, what kind of weather will be in Yemen and what type of clothes should I take?’ I told him ‘Arabs are very formal so you should take a suit and necktie for the signing’. Ved Prakash agreed ‘OK I will take a suit along’. He arrived a day early reasoning that the chairman should arrive early to make sure of all the arrangements, because he had to sign in the presence of the minister etc. He had rarely been out of India upto that point. Mamaji continues ‘I arrived at the same hotel the next day, in the morning about three hours before the ceremony’. I met him and agreed to meet him the lobby at a specific time. When he came down he was wearing his suit and on his feet he had some slippers (chapals)! I said ‘Ved Prakash ji you have forgotten your shoes’. ‘I have’nt brought any shoes’ he says. ‘You told me to bring a suit which I have but no body said shoes’!! I had to give him my own spare pair (and four pairs of socks to fill inches of space). Bara bewakuf si. Another time Ved Prakash and I went to Nice in France for an Airports related conference. The Director of the Frankfurt Airport invited us to cocktails party. The following year the conference was to be in India, so he said to this man to come with his wife and that he would take them to Agra. We were in the lobby of the Hotel and the door to the Bar was open. Now we had met most of the delegates and every time someone passed by Ved Prakash would rush out and shout ‘O my sister come and have drinks with us’. Slowly he collected about 10 extra people and imagine the German man had invited us. Here were all these people having drinks. I took him aside and told him Ved Parakash Ji, what do you think you are doing. He could not see what was wrong. I told him that the German man was the host and we could not invite everyone to the drinks. Then one evening we were invited to a reception. I waited for Ved Prakash but he would not come down. I began to suspect that he had gone somewhere. In the end I went on my own, and when I came back I rang his phone. He answered and I asked what happened to him, and asked if he had gone somewhere. He explained that he had a yogurt drink and added some stuff from the bar in the room. Who knows what he had drunk, but it kept him asleep for hours. He did not even appreciate that he had to pay for the drinks with the bill. Another time some airport groups at the Delhi Indira Gandhi Airport were asking for extra plane parking bays, and we had an argument about who needed to buy the equipment that would be needed to push a plane backwards into a possible space at the airport. Ved Prakash, who was the chairman of the IAA offered the solution that the plane could reverse under its own steam and that he would provide the ground staff to guide the pilots!! Everyone except he knew that no plane has reversing capabilities. I had to rescue him by telling everyone that he was joking, and afterwards he told me ‘How was I to know, cars have reverse gears why not planes!’ Marisol is painting a picture of Mamaji. Mamaji jokes about it, he says that he looks like an owl. Next time he jokes, that he would arrange an exhibition of her paintings. He also a preliminary sketch, which he says ‘bara bura hal e’. He then shows it to AuntyJi. He asks Marisol if she would Some funny Punjabi expressions Sohri Da – Son of Mother in Law Booser – Big but without brain Bhootni Da – Son of a witch Haram Zada – Someone who doesn’t know his father (bastard) Ullu da patha – Son of an owl Katchar Padri – No politically correct way to translate this (donkey preacher) BhimGode – Gode Bhin bhin karde Har Ki Pohri – Sarian pohrian Harian Kute Bhau Bhau Karde ne Omlette Made with mango (amb) Discussion moves to the winnings that Dad made from playing a sort of Bingo in the newspaper. He apparantly won a 300 rupees vouchers for dining at the Habitat Centre, where Marisol & I spent many evenings watching Indian Classical Dance and other events. So Dad gave us the vouchers, of which we used about 200 rupees. The remaining 100 still languish somewhere at home in Epsom, now no longer valid, and unusable. Here (late at night) Mamaji asks if we are going out to dine and I reply that at this time the cocks may be crowing (bangan maar rahe hon ge) at the Habitat Centre. Here Mamaji starts a story about his sister in law (Bharjai Ji). ‘You know, Bharjai Ji, her grand father (I am amazed that Mamaji recollects this and ask him how he remembers such a story – laughs) came to visit us and he had put on a watch! One morning we went to his room and he was doing push ups (Dand kadan lag gya) in his underpants (katcha paya hoya). We had a feeling that he did’nt know how to read the time. So we asked him (Bhapaji time ki e) what time it was. So he says ‘Time? Time I think it’s 11 o’clock (mera khyal e)’ So some one said ‘No Bhapaji its midday 12 o clock’. So he replied ‘Yes yes, that is what I said approximately 11 or 12’ At this point the watch reminds everyone of Mom’s story of a friend from South India who admitted that she had bought a watch. Now South Indian pronunciation of words is such that the way she said watch, sounded like she was saying that she had bought a horse (ghori instead of ghari). Mom expressed her amazement, knowing that the woman lived in an apartment, mom wanted to know where she was keeping the ‘ghori’. The woman was a bit cagey to reveal where the watch was kept. Later the mixup was cleared. But not before this story had become worthy of a family anecdote! Another Bengali story based on pronunciation is also remembered where a doctor asks a female to reveal her tongue, but mispronouncing so that it could be interpreted as an instruction to reveal the woman’s chest (joban instead of zaban). The woman then uses some very flowery language to chastise the medic. ‘Rur janea’ or the one who has drowned, go and ask your mother to do that. Marisol is making a drawing of Mamaji. He asks if she is putting a garland around a neck, implying the ritual of placing garlands on corpses, but Marisol is clever and counters that it could also be for a wedding. In any case there is no garland to be seen in the drawing. Then Mamaji jokes that she might draw him shaking hands with the prime minister. Which prime minister I ask, ‘the current silly man’ (jhala jeya). Popy’s sons want to buy some very expensive shoes (Lee Coopers). Mamaji is joking about taking them to the local market (where there are unlikely to be anything close to the Lee shoes). They are very spendthrift, he says. We suggest that he might convince them buy some local shoes, but he is happy to go along with what they want. But this reminds of a few years ago when Dad came to the US. What happened is that at that visit Guddi wanted to buy a new pair of shoes for dad, and Guddi took him to Nordstrom in New Jersey. Dad did’nt like any shoes because there was nothing less than a 100 Dollars! He would’nt budge. He said ‘give me the money and I will buy the shoes in Delhi’ and ‘what a waste of money’. ‘I can get about three pairs for half that much in Delhi!’. Guddi & I still joke about that. Auntijy tells a similar story about Popy in Sydney however she succumbed but Dad did not. Marisol has made Mamaji’s portrait. Everyone admires. Marisol says ‘looks a bit like you’. Mom tells the story of a boy that worked for her in Zambia, who once came up with the statement ‘Madam, my mother, small chicken, eat the cat’ (the cat ate my mother’s chicken). Talking of Africa we remember the famous lunch in Lome (Togoland). About 40 years ago when we all lived together in Ghana, we all went to Lome for a daytrip, it was only a three drive from Accra. No one remembers anything except that we had this lunch at a very smart restaurant by the beach (French cuisine). Everyone remembers that I ordered Crab (which I had probably never had before or had the slightest idea how difficult it was to eat) and that due to some mixup among so many meals, Mamaji had the crab (or kekre). Over the years this has produced so much laughter that this trip was priceless as a relation building exercise. I ask Mamaji his earliest memories about his father ‘I remember I was quite young, he was very soft spoken. He was apparantly quite a shining star in the Railways. People always commented how he was permitted to travel first class in the railways, at a time when only the English normally had that priviledge. We would sit in his lap, we were a very affectionate type of family living together. And I think when he was almostly dying he took my hand and put it in my mother’s hand, and that is a memory I still have. I did’nt know what was happening, and he passed away.’ You were quite young when this happened Yes I was very small, maybe five years old, and it was an accident apparantly. He had a cold or something, and he went to the doctor. In those days the doctor himself dispensed the medicine. He gave a bottle of medicine to my father, but as it turned out the bottle had some acid in it. The bottle was mislabelled by one of his assistants, and he asked my father to take that medicine. The acid caused the damage, however he made a statement before he died, saying that doctor was a friend and that he had no ill will towards him, and that it was just an accident. He was in the hospital for about ten days. I still remember the hospital and the house where we lived. Can you describe him physically He was quite thin and reasonably tall man. After his death my grandfather, who was a very wonderful man, took care of us and in a sense he was my father in the way he brought us up. My father’s family wanted us to go and stay with them in their village, but my mother (Beeji) said no, that she would do everying for their family but did not want to go and live in the village. She wanted us to be educated in the city. That’s when my grandfather came to our rescue. He was a gentleman of the first order, very good personality, long beard, used to wear a long coat, what you would call a true human being. He was a very kind hearted and respected man. Mamaji recalls that his grandfather was a very benevolent person. ‘He had a lawyer friend called Charan Das, with a goatee beard. They would go to poor people’s home, for example a few days before a wedding and give the family a hundred rupees.’ Hundred rupees in 1940 would have been a huge amount of money. ‘When we moved to Gujarat, I must have been five and your Mom about eight’. He began to look after us, and he would tell my mother that perhaps God had destined for them live together. He had lost his wife, my Nani. He had worked in the courts (Kachehri). He was very fond of children and he would invite my uncle’s kids over all the time, or we would go to their homes. The house we lived in was built by my Mamaji, in Gujarat. There was another plot of land by the side of our house, which my Nani ji had insisted that should have only another family house, as she did’nt want to have any other people as neighbours. So Mamaji had a built a house for himself after buying that plot of land. To start with it was a stable with animals etc, but ultimately they demolished the stable and built a very modern house. There was even a bridge over the street, between the two houses. The house we lived in was a very beautiful and stylish house with nice furniture. He was very proud that his two sons were so well settled and that he was taking care of his daughter’s family. Beeji looked after the household, money etc. He never carried any money, but would always say ‘Lakhan do we have any money?’. Beeji was also a very strong personality. She was so dignified that nothing would happen in all the family, or even the neighbours homes, without consulting her. She was also very proud and never put herself in the hands of someone, she would never go to anyone’s house without being invited. She was very respected and she taught us all those qualities. Later when we had finished school Beeji decided (and she was’nt afraid of making big decisions) that we should move back to Lahore. I ask about the period of when Mom got married That was much later. We came to Lahore around 1941, we were all three one year apart at college. Our elder brother was a year ahead of your Mom, who was a year ahead of me. I ask if the period of all the childhood stories such as the dogs in the well etc were when they lived in Gujarat. Mamaji agrees. Mamaji continues ‘Our Nanaji was perhaps the most well educated person in the family of his generation. He was very progressive and from the next generation our Mamaji was also very educated, he had passed some fairly big mamagement (Overseer) exams and we were in turn given very good education in Gujarat’. Beeji also could read Urdu, Panjabi and understood Hindi. We discuss the relationship between Dad and Beeji. They were cousins, and the previous generation where there five brothers one of whom had died. Mamaji is saying ‘My Naniji also was a very respected and powerful woman. She was a great individual and a master tactician. For example in the village there was this Chacha Sant Singh who would always sulk when there was a wedding knowing that people would come and try and appease him. He would always say that he was’nt going to go to the wedding and he did just that at my Uncle’s marriage. My Naniji knew how to manipulate him and said don’t worry he is going to be the first to go and they should leave it to her. A couple of days she made a loud conversation with Nanaji, saying that there were going to be a lot young girls with their jewellery at the wedding, so someone had to remain behind to look after all them. Perhaps Sant Singh who did’nt want to go anyway could do this. It is said that Sant Singh was the first to assemble for the wedding party about six hours before anyone else.’ She was also very brave, and another time she was alone at home and a man appeared at the door calling her ‘bhabi’. My grandfather often came home late from his office on a horse. It was pitch dark in the village (no electricity then) and she asked what the matter was. The man said there was’nt any matter and was trying to keep the conversation going and trying to get into the house. Not being afraid she gave him a big shove and he fell into the street. Mom tells another story about this lady, who was also a good rider. She had gone to her parents home in a village on the banks of a big river. The water was quite high in the river and several people wanting to cross to the other side were standing on the side unable to cross. So she asked one of the relatives to find her a horse. They brought the horse whereupon she rode across the river to show that it could be done. I ask what the lady was called, and after much discussion they settle on VeeranWali. And their Nanaji was Sardar Bhagat Singh. The Dadaji was Sardar Kahn Singh. Another brother of Nanaji was called Gandha Singh (also the word for Onion in Punjabi). Mom recalls a story in which a servant goes to buy groceries, but no one wants to use the term for onions because of the gentleman’s name. They asked him to buy onions using a description ‘bhookan wale’. The servant spent the whole day without finding what they had asked for. There is also recollection of Mrs Agarwal’s story about the oranges (Santra which was her father in laws name), which she referred to as ‘sour things’ (khate). Several stories emerge about the Vijay’s wife ‘Pinky, Go Piss’, Mrs Agarwal’s mastery of English when she learnt how to say father and brother (the police had raided their home and the father had escaped and the brother had been captured). Mrs Agarwal is the subject of more stories. She would come to Beeji and express her thanks for Mamaji who had got Mr Agarwal his job in Africa. (Bricks of butter in Africa instead of the small pieces in India). Talk drifts to their Elder Uncle Sardar Lal Singh. He was a great man. Mamaji remembers that when the kids (that’s Mom and wade Mamaji for me) got married Biji thought that they would help out. Mohinder’s (Mom) marriage was specially grand. They kept saying that we have to do this and we have to do that. ‘We did everything, and when the bills came in they asked us to pay. We did’nt say anything (but expected help). Beeji sold some jewellery and we decided not to ask for anything althogh Beeji could turkey to anyone. At my elder brother’s wedding also they produced the accounts and we had topay up around five thousand rupees which Ifinished repaying when I started working. So there was a little something there. Later when we were in India my cousin Rani needed to get admission to a college. They lived in Rohtak and there were no colleges there, so Mamaji came to see me in Karnal to see if I could help Rani to get admission to college near us (Dyal Singh College) where I had helped with some construction. I agreed to help and with some approach to the principal (Rai Bahadur), although Rani did not have good qualifications, I managed to get her admitted, and also paid her fees. Went back to see Mamaji, and told him the good news. The next day he produced a thousand rupees for her expenses etc but I told him that I respected him and that Rani was my sister and had learnt many things from him and now how was I going to accept money for her well being. At this point he started crying and said (recalling earlier episodes) that I had taught him a lesson.’ Then our relationship improved tremendously. Even when their kids got married he would always put my name on the invitations. I often enquired why, but he would say that I was his son. I went to Kaka’s marriage and Mohinder went to Kaki’s wedding. Mom tells the story of the marriage of Badshah (another of the kids of Wade Mamaji), and says that she got the invitation card, she was then in Gorakhpur. Dad had said that they had recently returned from Kanpur from visiting the Chote Mamaji, so would not be able to make another trip so soon. So Mom wrote to apologise for not being able to make it. She says that the reply came back to say that if Mohinder could not come then there would be no marriage! So we had to go. With Rani in Kanpur also we had a very good time. She was a very nice girl, and would admire everything, was always happy, and painted a glowing picture of her life to her parents. Mom recalls one time when Rani is chewing a tamarind root. Mamaji says to her Rani why are you trying to get a sore throat with this. Famously she insisted on having one mustache of tamarind (tamarind roots rather resemble a mustache). What about the family of your father? My paternal Grandfather was a leader in his own right, he was a Jathedar. The Akali political movement in Punjab had members from each Sikh home. He was also an Akali, and I believe he also died when he was quite young. His brother was a mad man, but he treated us fairly well. Mom comments that he had to treat us right since he took a lot of the money that belonged to them. Mamaji comments that Beeji was very politically correct when it came to matters of the inlaws. Travel Stories related to dining We are dining with Mamaji, and he tells a story of a trip to Germany, where they take him to an Indian restaurant. The manager is very happy to see an Indian and althogh he is a Pakistani, he makes them a wonderful meal, but refuses to charge them. The Germans think that Mamaji is having a fight with the man, until Mamaji explains that the man refuses to charge for the meal. Marisol & I also talk of the many times when travelling in Spain, we would find that when we asked for the bill in restaurants, we would be informed that people on the next table to us had paid our bill when they left. We would only recall that they had been very interested in us and we had had a conversation. We would not even be able to thank them because they would have left maybe half an hour before. We are eating a chicken dish and after several attempts to have everyone have another chicken leg, we recall the story of the woman (Mrs Zoravar Singh’s Dadi), who sat at a baraat (wedding party) dinner, at the beginning of the table and ate all the chicken to be had at the party. She would ask the dish to placed near her and proceeded to eat an unimaginable quantity of chicken until they ran out and she asked them to bring more chicken legs. At this point the waiters said something that our family has remembered for the last sixty or more years. ie ‘there are no more chicken legs left only our own’ (Hun murgeyan diyan tangan nahin rahiyan, siraf sadiyan reh gayian ne). What we had not known was that she was quite an old lady who quite suddenly died the next day after the day of the story! They assure me that it had nothing to do with the chicken episode, but I cant be sure. At this point I tell the story of the time in Merida in Venezuela, we checked into the Merida’s Intercontinental Hotel. We arrived and everyone in the hotel wanted to look at us, because of the turban and beard. They all wondered who I was. After a while we went to the restaurant to get something to eat with the kids. There was a commotion near the kitchen and soon a few people appeared with an Indian looking man. ‘Oh Sardar ji Sat sri akal, what are you doing here’. He turned out be the head chef, and insisted on cooking us an Indian meal and deliver it to our rooms. We enquired if the Indian meals were on the menu, to which he replied ‘No, no no one wants Indian food here, I will make it specially for you’. What is more we were not charged for it. Auntyji tells a similar story based in Sydney, when Deepi and Parveen took the parents out for a meal at a Gujarati restaurant, where they invited them to participate in family events, birthday cakes and cooked specially for them. Everyone agrees that Indians are good that way when you meet them all over the world. I remember and tell the story of a man I once met in the car park of a hotel in Maracaibo, an Indian, who immediately greeted me when I saw me. We talked for a while, and when we agreed to meet later, I told him to write his name and room number and I would contact him. He proceeded to write my name on a piece of paper. I was about to tell him to write his own name, when I realised that he had the same name as I, since I had not told him my name. What a coincidence! Mamaji continues, ‘There was this time at Frankfurt airport, we were having breakfast. There was a waiter from Hoshiarpur (Punjab) who served us. When we asked for our bill, he refused to charge us. He was prepared pay himself for our breakfast! We made a big scene, but he was adamant’ Everyone is praising Radha (Autyji’s cook) who has made our dinner. Auntyji says that first they had thought of taking us out to dinner, and Radha was looking sad, but when they decided to have the dinner at home she became quite enthusiastic. Mamaji makes some jokes about Auntijy not being able to hear the dogs barking after such a meal, and Radha wishing that we run for it after causing such havoc with the meal. Auntijy comments that they could have got some food delivered, only that she liked the Rotis made at home. Talking about travel stories I recall when in 1972 on my way to London I stopped in Sierra Leone, where Dad had recently started a new job for the UNDP. One night Dad says lets go and see a movie. I agree, thinking perhaps we will see an Indian movie. We went and I was amazed to find that the owner of the cinema we went to was a Sikh man who knew Dad, and he came out to greet us when we arrived. Dad adds it was the Globe cinema, and the man (Raminder Singh) was a friend. It was a special cinema that showed only Indian cinema, and he would bring snacks etc at interval. After the movie this Raminder & Dad wanted to go to a Casino, so I also went along. Dad said to me ‘you don’t bet anything, just watch’. (We are tucking into GulabJamuns) Dad played Blackjack and I believe won a few dollars (or whatever the local currency was called). We discuss the ingredients of GulabJamuns a dessert from Punjab. Its mainly made from something called khoya, a milk based item something like butter. Makes your arteries harden just looking at it. I joke that in Spain no one has heard of Khoya, ‘neither Gulabjamun’ says Marisol. Mamaji and Dad joke about ‘Bane dhudh ka Khoya, Dekh Kabira roya’. We move onto Carrot Halwa, another sweet. After having a bit, I comment that I will have a try a bit more. Auntyji asks if she should warm up a bit more (its best warm). I joke that they are trying to get rid of me. Mamaji says that I could sit over a heater to automatically heat the Halwa when I eat it. (this appears to be quite funny at the time). We are drinking Rum and Coke, The Bacardi rum ‘Casa fundada en Cuba’ seems like a million miles away. I comment how much Cuba Libres we drank when we lived in Venezuela. Auntyji tells the story of a driver that Mamaji employed, who suggested some improvements to Rolls Royce cars about their seats, and was given a 500 pounds award! I comment that he should have asked for a million pounds, remembering how much a Rolls can cost! They talk about how the man and his wife have moved to work in England. Turned out that a family looking for a ‘suitable boy’ for their daughter came to India and saw Mamaji’s driver and arranged a marriage. That’s how this man went to live in the UK. We remember how Mamaji was always a pioneer and how a whole band of people followed him around the world. Mamaji’s trail goes from Pakistan, to India, England, Africa and then back again, and there are at least ten people who at various times have followed him to new projects whereever he has gone. Talking about drivers we move to talk about Mamaji’s current driver Keshto, and as always with people who work with him, he always calls them all kinds of things. Everone comments that once Mamaji begin’s to get angry with you then it means you have a job for life. I tell the story of our experience a few evenings before, we had gone to leave Guddi and Birinder at the airport on their way home to New Jersey. On the way back, on a three lane highway, we are diverted by some workmen painting lines on the road, onto the carriage with oncoming traffic. We have a harrowing few minutes as traffic coming in the opposite direction struggle to avoid hitting us. One overtaking car only misses us by some miracle. I tell Keshto to wait until someone passes by and then follow behind. With a sigh of relief we reached a point where we can rejoin the correct carriageway, going in our direction. Traffic in India is bad enough when you are going in the right direction. The talk moves to Mom’s maid who is a very stout looking 14 year old, but looks like 18 or 20. Mom comments that she eats more than the rest of the family put together. Most of the food disappears before appearing on the table. Mamaji describes a visit to someone’s house in Africa where we are all given mongo juice which the lady of the house has probably made with her bare hands. Thinking that we could be sick from drinking this stuff, Mamaji chucks the contents out of a window, only for the host to replenish his glass when they notice that he has ‘drunk’ all of it. Then we all recall Raghubir Uncle’s experience when he first arrived in Accra. We all go to some friends house and they offer Raghubir Uncle some Beer. Not knowing the local customs he accepts and then is forced to have another, not having beer ever in his life before. Wee did not notice anything but when we leave, as soon as we go around the corner on the road, he asks for the car to stop, jumps out and is violently sick. Dad says that Pammi was born virtually the next day. Mamaji in his usual way says that his friends enquired later ‘what happened? There was so much smell outside, we thought that a dog had died!!’ Aunty Ji is telling a story about the time we lived in Lajpat Nagar in O Block. Sehgal Sahib, recently our neighbour in Delhi (and there are a lot of things I could add here about my contacts with that family) also lived in O block. This must be around 1956 or 57. We were just coming back from having dinner with the Aggarwals who lived in E block. We were coming home and Sehgal Sahib’s family were sitting on the outside beds (manjis) and having their dinner. Now Sehgal Sahib was not one to let you get away without sharing his meal so he insisted on Bhatia Sahib having some dessert. Mamaji told him that they had just had dinner, but he would not listen (You will get presidential dessert, and that it will be special). So we sat down and we were given this mango that was obviously cut in front of us. We had walked quite a way so we sat down, but the thought of eating something that had been cut by dirty hands just made us feel sick. I tell you we had such a difficult dessert that we only just managed to get home before we were sick like the story of Raghubir in Accra. (Mamaji here gets in a more graphic story about a man in the village who had a medicine that was prescribed for constipation, that claimed that you would not be able to make it to the bathroom) I add that in Spain people are often given ‘Manzanilla’ kind of herbal tea that makes you throw up if you have indigestion. Marisol is shown some invitations from a family across the road who have invioted us to their daughter’s wedding. She starts smelling the cards as she always does with everything. Everyone comments on this ‘she always does it’ and ‘whats your opinion, will the marriage be successful’, ‘you have to go the ceremony and bless them’, and ‘maybe you can smell the bride and groom also’. The card says the wedding will take place under the shadows of stars (poetic) but there are more comments on this. Mamaji is in full flight and I caution him that the ladies may still be standing outside and hear him. More laughter (haka baka ho jan ge) they will come and reclaim the invitation. Mamaji then reads out the card ‘Sardarni Attar Kaur, wife of late Sardar Charan Singh cordially invites you on the auspicious marriage of her Grand Daughter.The sun sets and the stars decorate the pallu (hem) of the sky. The hands of nature put the bindiya (the dot on the forehead) of the moon on the forehead of the night. The night looks like a dulhan (bride). Monica Jaspreet Kaur, Beti (daughter) of Sardarni & Sardar Inderjit Singh of Pathankote, with Mehndi Rache Hath , Chrian and Payel, the procession of the dulhan and we offer the Varmala… your fragrant presence to shower petals of love etc etc. Mamaji continues with reading more wedding invitations in the same vein. An address in Sabzimandi invokes ‘with tori and aloo’ And the word Jaimata brings on ‘Tota bole Jaimata’ Looks like there are a half dozen wedding invitations for January. I comment that Mamaji is going to be very busy. He is going to Hydrabad, then rushes back to attend a wedding at the Gymkhana club in Delhi. Exotic addresses such as Anmol Palace, Phagwara Road, Banga. Dad jokes that each card costs Mamaji and average of five hundred rupees. I show surprise but Dad explains that is what yo need to give as a present. Mamaji gets 6 or 7 every month. And we joke that a 500 rupees meal (because that is more or less what he would get in return) is really expensive. Mamaji agrees that it’s a loss making business. I ask if Mamaji can claim those as tax free expense. (laughter) I continue and ask if Mamji buys new clothes for each wedding. Mamaji laughs loud and says that he only has his standard jacket. I ask Mamaji how was his day. He says ‘Don’t ask we are not really doing any work, we are just wasting our time’ (kuj na puch, bari ghajal khwari, koi kam kum nahin hega). I argue that Mamaji is always critical of his own work. He explains that the urge for doing work that you may find in the west is lacking (chalo kuta kam wi karna hunda e). There is a general appraisal of the comings and goings. Popy’s kids have already arrived in Sydney and called from there. Montse, Pablo and Jone also have made their trip toAgra and Jaipur and returned. I tell Mamaji that they had still not been taken around Delhi on account of fog when they arrived, and because their hotel was in the direction of Jaipur, so when they got back they went straight to their hotel without having to drive through any parts of Delhi. But we made up for all that in the following week. We discuss the logistics of showing the Spaniard contingent around Delhi, Mamaji has arranged a hotel near home, which shows a dubious promise, we have all day taxis arranged for daily sightseeing and shopping. I thank Mamaji for his help with some of this. Mamaji wants to invite everyone home. Jokes about neither the Spaniards nor Mamaji being able to understand each other, nevertheless he is keen to entertain. I explain the chemistry of the Spanish trio. They take up all opportunities for travel put forward by Montse, but have flourishing businesses of their own in Spain. I explain that Pablo’s homes are like museums where you can spend hours looking at his collection antiques, paintings, jewelery etc. I explain that Marisol and Montse are from the North of Spain (Laredo) maybe 300 Miles from Madrid and that Bilbao, Pablo’s town is about 40 miles east of Laredo. Mamaji has heard Pablo’s reputation for snoring and we joke about how Montse and Jone don’t want to share rooms with him. Mamaji wants to know if I would like to eat a special bread made from a grain whose name in english I will have to research, ‘bajre di roti’. I explain that we already had it earlier that morning, Auntyji had brought it for us at breakfast. Mamaji jokes that it is strong stuff and could upset anyone’s stomach. We ask Dad if he likes bajra, and it appears that he loves the rotis made from bajra. Dad goes into the medicinal benefits of the grain, and we discuss Dad’d morning walks. Mamaji says he does’nt walk just waits for someone to bring him some tea. (Daddy ji te savere cha peen to pehlan sair karan chale jande nen). The medicine talk degenerates into the village medicine that made you run to the bathroom. At this point I talk about Marisol’s experience with a very potent medicine that she was offered by Auntyji, when due to the pollution and a sore throat she had lost her voice. Auntyji produced a small bottle with a thick green liquid. ‘just dip a baz (a stick that Sikhs use for tucking hair into the turban which after lots of laughs was turned into a toothpick) into the bottle and touch a glass of steaming water with it. Then do gargles (garare)’. Marisol as always wanted to read the lable, and at the top of the label in big letters was the word POISON. That was the end of that idea! ‘I’m not putting poison in my mouth, you want to kill me!’. I ask Mamaji if he was naughty in his childhood. He is noncommital, ‘you have to be naughty sometimes, if not what else can you be’. I say that being naughty usually make you more extroverted later. Talking of naughty I remember the playful exchange at the music concert we had seen a few days earlier, by Hariprasad Chaurasia and the public. When He asks the public to name the raag he has just played. Someone says ‘Kashmiri’. He counters ‘Oh no, it cant be, Kashmir is big, I just played a small tune’. Then someone took the name of another place which was also not right ‘hey don’t mention that town, there is someone from that tow over there in the audience, they might be offended’. Then after several more wrong guesses a young girl named a hill (pahari, as it was a hill raag). At this point HC said ‘Oh, you are close, that hill is very near the one I have played. You get the sweets. I have to give them to you, the shop where I got them wont take them back’. Earlier people had asked if the prize was going to be one of his flutes, which was a lot more than he intended. The flutes looked simple bamboo ones, but palyed the most incredible sound. Probably noone else would be able to play them in quite the same way as HC, so may have proved to be worthless in someone elses hands. He played as if he had played the flutes since childhood.
Mamaji is describing people who work in his office. ‘One of them is lame and another is like a small mouse. Everytime I return from a trip, he immediately prepares my accounts and brings the cash for me. I ask him if he is as efficient with the other employees accounts. When I arrived yesterday from Hydrabad, they were all standing in the sun and chatting. They saw me and all ran and dissappeared inside the office. I called one of them to my office and said why they had to all run, but he would only say that the electricity had gone and that is why they were all out in the sun.’ Auntyji also has a direct extension at home and often calls the office helpers for assistance. She explains that there is a great sense of protecting each other, and if someone is not available they would offer all kinds of excuses why someone was not available. There are more tales of how tight fisted some of the rich associates are and we joke about how these people would cope if they had to work in a pace like England, which is relatively so expensive. He tells a story about an Air Marshall who worked with him at the Airports Authority, ‘Bhatia is on my wavelength, and understands what I am trying to say. Now that Bhavnani chap, he never understands me when I tell him to install some lights at the airport to have it lit up at night. Do you remember when I was the station commander in Nagpur. We installed lights and everyone loved it’ Someone then explains to this man, ‘Yes, they were beaytiful, but when you left the same evening someone had them removed, because he found them ridiculous (wah yat si chiz). Thereupon the man makes some comment like ‘sale, meri leg pulling karte ho (are you pulling my leg)’. Auntyji comes in with ‘One of the chairmen was Das, who would always tell me that Bhatia (Mamaji) was a very good man, but I don’t know why he always comes and bangs on my table’. Mamaji explains why. ‘There were once several vacancies at the Airport Authority and I was an associate of the Authority. Since this chairman was linked to the Air Force, he had invited several Air Force people for interviews. His office was on a different floor than mine, so when I went to seehim one afternoon, I saw all these people sitting around his office with their topees (pointed caps). I asked an assistant ‘Kamal what is going on here, has someone died?’ The answer came that these people were waiting for interviews. I went to meet him and asked what the people outside were for. When he explained that they were being interviewed, I snapped and banged on his table, saying that we had to follow some internal procedures and first consider insider candidates etc etc. One of his assistants said that they had asked internally but got no suitable candidates. This was untrue because nobody had asked me and I was interested in some of the positions. So I told him to remove all the people and that he was trying to populate the Authority with all the cast offs from the Air Force (Mamaji uses a stronger word instead of ‘cast offs’). He tried to get me to agree to the interviews but I said no, and insisted on telling the group to leave. In the end they had to go, and I got a lot of cheers from the workers at the office for getting rid of potential competition. The next day I got a letter asking if I would like to apply for one of the vacancies. I took two weeks to reply by when the initiative had cooled. From then on he would always consult me before appointing new people. I used to plan for the training of relevant people and usually made the moves a couple of years ahead of the possibilities. Since I left everyone has remained in their positions without moving up. I explain that I also have to plan promotions in my group, to get the IT management prepared for what we suggest well in advance. You just have to keep promoting different qualities of the people so that when we ask for the promotions the decision makers have no objections. Mamaji remembers when he met one of the Directors of the Airports authority (Sandhewalia) he could not believe it. The man was in slippers and was a bit cockeyed (visually challenged). ‘Eh jhalla jaya sardar betha hoya si, nal chapal payi hoyi si’. Later Sandhewalia and Daas helped me a lot. I started as an Associate, and when the post of the Chief Engineer came up, Daas helped me. Sandhewalia was the CE and was being appointed the director, so Daas slipped in my appointment to replace Sandhewalia, without any opposition. It turned outthat Sandhewalia had a complicated process to get his promotion but mine happened from one day to the next. Dad remembers that many of the chiefs from Airports Authority went to visit him in Zambia. (Sandhewalia & Nalse are remembered) Mamaji recalls that when they came back they complimented Mom on her cooking. AuntyJi recalls how all these seniors would compliment Mamaji on his ability to get contracts approvad and signed. ‘He has a magic wand’. Mamaji is talking about the Chairman of the Airports Authority saying to someone called Bhavnani ‘Oye Bhavnani, listen you don’t agree with anyone, but let us make a green belt around the airport. We need a belt of land around the airport for safety and to disperse the gases emitted by planes etc.’ Bhavnani is known to have replied ‘ Yes I think we should do this but I should say a couple of things. Firstly the plane gases are not much but the gases from 200 cows are likely to be more problematic.’ The Chairman calls Bhavnani an idiot (bawakoof admi). I say that I cant believe that the Chairman is involved in this kind of conversation. Bhavnani continued ‘Secondly we will have to have a dozen guns to fire to scare birds. The greenbelt will attract birds and we run the risk of bird strikes’. We are interrupted by a driver from Mamaji’s office. The talk turns to the cars and the taxi that we are going to rent for siteseeing. Mamaji praises the Toyota (qwalis). But there are two or three others on offer. I joke that the Spaniards are probably going to be so awestruck by what they see that its not going to be too important to them what we rent. However we did use the Toyota all the time. I relay the conversation with Montse about Pablo’s stress after the drive from Delhi to Agra. Road conditions being formidable at the best of times are suicidal in a foggy morning drive. Later on the drive from Agra to Jaipur he nearly passed out. Montse and Jone sat in the back and talked the whole time trying to ignore the road. But Pablo in the front had no escape. Mamaji tells the story of a frightening boat ride with Sandhewalia, on a trip to Male where they were building the airport, his companion was so frightened that he had put a plastic bag on his turban. Presumably he thought that if they fell into the sea, he might keep his turban dry!! Apparantly each wave would put lots of water into the boat, and everyone was petrified. And how a little boy was desperately trying to throw the water back out with a small can. I describe a motorcyclist and his passenger that I had seen earlier that day. The passenger had a clear plastic bag over his head presumable to stop the wind from getting in his face and to avoid the pollution . The passenger had his hands inside the bag and would pull the bag away from his face occasionally to take a breath. Mamaji is saying, ‘I think Kumasi was a very good period in our lives, even better than Accra’. The university environment was really nice. I recall that Accra had also been great, they (Dad and Mamaji) had lovely homes and jobs, but Mamaji claims that it was nothing compared to Kumasi. He recalls that the Student Halls could arrange food for parties and Auntyji remembers the time that Professor Peck (of Terzaghi and Peck fame) came to dine at their home they got the halls to arrange dinner. She recalls the fish dish that they had to try and to approve for the meal. I remember I was studying Engineering and I had the Soil Mechanics book with his name on it, and when he came to visit it was as if God had come to visit us. There was a whole bunch of famous soils Gurus, Eaves, Ackeneel and others are recalled. There was a story that he was charging three hundred dollars a day which in 1968 was a lot of money, and I would say that I should walk around behind this man in case money falls out of his pocket! The story goes that his secretary sent a bill for a large amount to Mamaji for inviting him home to dinner! (Sounds farfetched – maybe I remember it wrong) Mamaji says he later apologised for the error from his secretary. I tell Mamaji to have a look at some photos from Ghana that I have on my website. There are three fotos in the family page. One of Popy (about 8 years old maybe around 1961) and I shaking hands, and another of a party of us in swimming pants on the beach including Guddi and Raghubir Uncle, and then another of Mamaji and Auntyji looking so young. Auntyji suggests calling Raghubir Uncle who now lives in DehraDun, who might come and meet us. I suggest that perhaps Popy still may be able to come from Sydney. Mamaji suggests that they could put up in their spare room. I joke that he could cause a flood of bodies since there is also a possibility that our Spanish friends also stay in his spare room. Everyone remembers Popy Sangeeta then our boys Manjeet and Anil, and how nice it would be to meet everyone. I convey a message from Anil which says he would love to be in Delhi, but for now only a wish. Dad recalls how they played at home. Manjeet and Anil were not very fond of playing cards (Dad’s favourite). I suggest that if you were to arrange an outing to a rock club then you would see enthusiasm from the boys. Dad recalls when Anil was thrown out of a club a few days after he had turned 18. He had to come home get his passport and then go again. Auntyji remembers how in Kumasi I did’nt take Popy anywhere because he was so much younger. Here Mom recalls Marisol experience in an Atlantic City Casino in 2000, where they stopped Marisol to show her ID. Marisol a bit puzzled, enquired what was wrong. She was truly stunned when the attendant suggested that she needed to prove that she was over 21!! Marisol says ‘I jumped on the man and told him I love you’ then explained to the attendant that her son was older than twenty one. Marisol says he probably needed a new pair of glasses. Everyone laughs and talk drifts to medical matters, with Auntyji in major problems with her eyes. Mamaji tells a story about a doctor questioning a patient (more laughs). Do you sleep looking up or down? Does your heart beat irregularly? Do you feel thirsty? And the last straw ‘Do your teeth rattle when you are asleep?’ patient replies ‘I don’t know if they rattle, they are usually in a glass by the bed’ (hysterical in Punjabi) Mamaji invites me to his office, and to meet his colleagues. He says they want to ‘receive’ me there. I tell me that for humble old me it does’nt need to be formal. No, he says, we will have a cup of tea and show you some of our work. Mamaji always made us feel as if we were the most valuable people in the world. He also invites Marisol. Mamaji tells the story of the cook who was interviewed by someone in the family (one of his Aunts), and they asked if he knew how to make an omlette. Not knowing what that was the cook says you must be joking. ‘Why would we joke’, and he continued, everyone knows that mangoes are out of season now!! (Om and the punjabi word amb (mango) made him hazard a guess). Mamaji’s description of his career. Mamaji spoke at length about his working life, unfortunately I was unable to record him live. Here I write the main points of the conversation. Mamaji described again his childhood and the passing away of his father at a very young age (about 30 or 31), when Mamaji was very little. Beeji must have been in her late twenties at the time. We discussed how Pammi & Chanda often left their kids alone with the seervants, but in his own case, Mamaji recalls that he can only remember a single time when the three of them (4,6 & 9 years old) were left alone at home for three days, when his parents were made to attend a funeral at the insistence of other family members. He described how bad they felt, scared and unable to sleep or even eat. He also recalled the watchman would pass by in the evening and tell them that he was going to take care of them and that they should sleep. I think Mamaji was trying to convey that the families tended not to leave the kids alone, whereas now the parents are more busy and often both working. Then he talked about how their mother managed without their father, and how she put up a really strong front to the world, and everyone could see that she could take care of them. They were’nt from the rich side of the family, but people would not have noticed because their grandfather had a big house in which they all lived. Their grandfather did support them and some of the money that was left behind after the death of their father was put in accounts for later use in the education of the kids, and the marriages etc. Beeji also used her own jewellery to pay for some of the expenses, specially Mom’s wedding which was done in great pomp and style. The curious thing was that just when they were beginning to get back on their own feet finishing their education etc, the partition of the Indian subcontinent happened. Mamaji remembered that they had to move to what is now India, and that they had a couple of suitcases and maybe 500 Rupees in their posession, and start again from scratch. Then he described how it was when they came to India, to start with they were in a camp (protected by the Army in Lahore). He says that fortunately they met other people who they knew, and got looked after in that they were given places to stay and food etc. Then Beeji and Mamaji travelled by train to Lucknow in India, and the rest of the family followed later. They had family there so it made sense to start there. But he soon realised that there were few jobs or opportunities for him in Lucknow. He convinced Beeji that he needed to go to where he knew people were working in his field, and try his luck. So he went to where the road research labs had been set up in Karnal to see if he could get some work. He presented himself to the director of the Road Research labs, who tld him that they had no funds to emply people and there were no projects going on that they could fund for him to work on. Because of the partition there was a lot of uncertainty and everything was at a stand still. Mamaji as ever full of ideas and enthusiasm was not prepared to take no for an answer, and suggested all kinds of research that could benefit the displaced families. He proposed research into cheap building materials to help people in temporary accomodation in colleges and schools. No one showed much enthusiasm, but he kept in touch with the managers. One of them agreed to meet with him when he returned from a trip on which he had to go. Mamaji managed to convince a local school to lend him the equipment from the physics and chemistry labs temporarily, and setup a lab in some cheap accomodation, and began to work on some materials testing, without funding and without pay, with the help of a few aquaintances in the same boat as him. They used their personal funds and lived rough while starting this venture. These were to become his loyal band of followers who always ended up in the same place where Mamaji went. So when the man from the RRI happened to come by they showed him the labs and the man was really astounded, asking where they had obtained the equipment since the Road Research lab had none. Mamaji told him that he had sent it from Pakistan before leaving. They showed the man the research that was going on into building blocks to help construct houses. The RRI man was amazed, though he was reluctant to give them any funds to carry on this research. After much negotiations the RRI finally succumbed to letting Mamaji run a project for a few months to find a cheap home building solution, with 6 engineers and technicians. Mamaji made a deal with headmaster of the school that lent them the school equipment. So the building work started. They eventually found the right combination of soil and cement and the process that would produce the desired strength in blocks that could be used for building. They next had to convice the authorities to let them try out their method on real housing. Same negative pushback, nobody wanted to commit the funds to do this. Here fate dealt a kind set of cards. One of his pals from college happened to be a minister in the Punjab parliament, and he happened to meet this man and he wanted to know what Mamaji was upto. When he discovered that Mamaji was trying to get the housing problem resolved he became very interested and supportive. With this man’s influence Mamaji’s band of researchers soon had the support of the RRI and an agreement to build 500 homes! This was a turning point, and their lives began to improve, Beeji came over from Lucknow and they began to live in Karnal. Mamaji then also conviced the Chief of the RRI that Daddy ji may be brought over to the Labs. Now Daddyji was in Chemistry and sugar refineries, and knew nothying of roads. So Mamaji concocted a couple of papers on rural road building methods that Daddyji was supposed to have written! On the basis of those he managed to convince the RRI folks that Dad was a suitable employee. Later the whole RRI setup moved to Delhi in the early fifties, and that is where my own memories begin to surface. Mamaji continued to talk about promotions and opportunities in this environment. A project came up where people were identified to get trained in London. By some lucky twist the two people identified were the most senior man at the institute and Mamaji, who was one of the younger employees of the institute. He believes that he was selected because of his resourcefulness and his ability to pick up virtually anything and make a go of it. So against all odds Mamaji went to Imperial College and studied for his DIC for 15 months, registered for a PhD (at a cost of 30 pounds). He made quite a hit with the profs at Imperial, including Skempton and other famous names. However the RRI in Delhi wanted him back and threatened recalling the loans and other pressures. He had to leave studies behind and return to India, and go back to work at RRI. Soon afterwards Daddyji also had his opportunity to study in London, That story is explored in my conversations with DaddyJi. There followed the whole episode of the African adventure, we don’t discuss that much at this point. Mamaji explains that he had to come back to India from Africa because of the need to look after BeeJi, who was alone in Delhi. He explains that he was being offered several jobs including ones in Tanzania and Zambia, but he had to pass up all those opportunities to return to Delhi. He managed to get a job with the Indian Airports Authority, as a senior engineer to start with. He quickly moved through the ranks until he was on the board of directors of the Authority. They were dnot doing too much work at this point and Mamaji was as always thinking about how to promote the department in some way. They were doing small improvement projects at the odl Delhi Airport but were a very small department. He recalls that there was a lot of activity in the Gulf and thought that they might be able to do some work in the middle East if they could their services to the decision makers in that part of the world. Mamaji proposed that the AAI should try and move into consultancy in the Middle East in the field of Airport Design. His colleagues all laughed because the Authority had any experience of Airport Design, but Mamaji knew a great deal from his work on the Accra Airport, in Ghana. Mamaji argued that the Arabs knew less than the Indians and that there may well be opportunities to be had. Again reluctantly he got agreement to go to Libya and try selling consultancy services there. By using old contacts and his knowledge of African Airports, and his association with Airports Authority, he convinced Libyan authorities that he could arrange collaboration in Airport projects with the Airports Authirity in Delhi. He built up this image of a big organisation that was doing projects in many parts of the world. He invited Libyan Minsters to come to Delhi and see for themselves. Now the truth was that they were not doing any of the things that Mamaji had talked to the Libyans about. So when the Libyans arrived Mamaji had arranged for a very large office space to be temporarily converted to their offices with temporary furniture and people looking really busy at their desks. On the basis of this show the Libyans gave the Airports Authosity their first overseas project in Libya in excess of a hundred million dollars!! This was for building an airport in Libya, which got built on time and within the budget! He recalls a gold plaque given to them by Col. Gadafi when they finished the Airport in Libya, which read ‘with the will of Allah and the hard work of the Indians this airport has been built’. Mamaji talks a bit about the Libyan Desert and the problems of building with construction crews from India. Often when they found faulty construction, he would ask for it to be removed and redone, even if the Libyan authorities had accepted the work. That is how they built their credibility. Further consultancy and more airports in many parts of the world followed. That’s how the AAI’s work started on the basis of very little resources, and they learnt as they went along. They did projects in India, Maldives, Libya, Middle East and Cook Islands. They built up a big department and employed hundreds of people. Their crowning moment was in the construction of the Indra Gandhi Delhi Airport, for which Mamaji was the Chief Engineer. This is where at the end Mamaji fell out with the Indian Government, when they wanted him to make tricky maneuvers with the financing. He made his position quite clear that he was not going to do any of the hera-pheri that was being suggested. In the end he had to fight with them and resign. This is when he formed his own consultancy that has flourished in Kalka Ji to this day. This was the gist of the conversation this morning and there was more detail but since I did not record it, I have here described the main points while they are fresh in my head. Wedding Anniversary Dinner 26th January 2003 We are with Mamaji and Auntyji on their wedding anniversary. Everyone has been buying Indian clothes for various reasons. Marisol, because she loves the fabric and occasionally likes to dress in Indian clothes at parties and at weddings. Montse probably had bought the least but borrowed from Jone and Marisol because they had plenty. Jone runs a boutique in Santona near Laredo, in Spain, and a lot of the clothes she bought were for sale in her shop, and for carnivals and fancy dressing occasions. Pablo had bought some Mughal style clothes also for parties and fancy dressing occasions. We all dress in Indian style and appear at Mamaji for the dinner engagement. Mamaji is very impressed and praises the result. Asks where did they make the blouses (this for the ladies of course), I explain that the blouses are t-shirts from their regular wardrobes. I ask mamaji what he thinks of Pablo’s appearance ‘He is looking gorgeous (I did’nt translate this for Pablo). Then Mamaji continues ‘He looks like our a Prime Minister’ (I translate this). Montse respponds ‘mira el desfile ahora’ that its as if the independence parade (this was a big occasion in Delhi the same day) is going on at home. Auntyji asks Montse and Jone if they have purchased the Saris, and I translate and explain that all the Sari’s belong to Jone, who is planning to give them as presents (bhena bhuna vaste) and also to sell them in her shop. Pablo is making a video and Montse is stating that we are at the Mamaji’s Wedding Anniversary. I ask how many years have passed. He says ‘Yar countless years’. Its actually 48 years. Mom and Dad also arrive and we bring in a present which is big and wrapped in a bed cover. Mamaji is welcoming everyone and says ‘I cant understand what is in this package!’ (samajh nahin a rahi ehde which ki e), he says perhaps it contains chickens and perhaps eggs will fall out when they open the package. ‘jisran murge leyande ne’. Mamaji and Auntyji comment that everyone looks so Indian (despite Jone and Montse looking like made out of white marble). I am trying to take the photos, and we are trying to seat people with the anniversary couple in the middle. Jone says ‘espera, deja me la mitad’. Someone says ‘oo la la, sacanos ahora’, ‘Marisol tiene la camara’, ‘yo tambien salgo? Espera’, ‘si salen todos’. We take more. Mamaji is saying ‘yar ehdron vi le’. Mamaji is saying that Pablo looks like the ‘ragi’ (eh te kirtan karan wala lagda) who provide the music at the temples. Marisol now appears and comments that so much photo and commotion, that they feel like famous stars.More photos ‘me sacas con las chicas sentadas’. Marisol wants a photo of the two of us. ‘listos?’,’espera un segundo’, ‘bueno’, ‘a ver’ etc. We are being offered drinks. Rum with Coke! Very exotic. A toast is proposed, ‘Many more years of happy marriage’. The girls are discussing the prices of the shoes ‘chapals’ they are wearing, and how the prices varied from place to place. Also they are discussing the negotiation required to get to the right price. (They asked for 400 and we finally got it down to 100). Jone says ‘ochocientos tres pares’ she paid 800 for three pairs. Jone asks if Mamaji has figured out what the gift is. I say I did’nt think so. I make a short presentation ‘someone will jump out of the package and dance when its opened’. Mamaji & Auntyji begin to open the package ‘you cant have the cover – its Moms’. Dad says ‘The bed cover could become our present’. As the package opens there is a big oooooo… (its a circular table with inlayed stones and carved base) ‘Its too much, I thank you but its too much’, Mamajis is saying. ‘Its very beautiful but I don’t think we deserve it’. I ask Mamaji to tell us how and where they met. It appears both were doing social work in Lajpat Nagar, Delhi where they met, and married in January 1955. Was it an arranged marriage, Marisol asks. Dad says no and that it was not arranged, but as a result of their love for each other. I remember later in 1974 when I had my own troubles with Dad & Mom, Mamaji had advised me that I had to do what I felt I had to do. It appears that he had probably had the same pushback because it was a break from the traditions and Beeji was such a strong personality. Mamaji then goes on to say that ‘it sort of became arranged once I had got Beeji convinced’. In September of the same year Mamaji came to London to work on his Postgraduate degree. I continue ‘What I remember most from your going to England in 1955, is the day you came back the following year. This large wooden crate arrived and we all sat around expecting the entire world to drop out of it. And effectively the world did drop out of that box.’ There were so many presents for us kids (I would have been eight years old), and we had never seen anything like them in our lives. Mamaji says things were very cheap then in England, ‘you could buy anything with one Pound’. Auntyji says, ‘he went with one one suitcase, but came back with sevencases, and not counting the wooden crate with my ‘world’ inside. Those presents they changed my life, I find myself saying with atrembling voice. Mamaji plays it down, but I remember two or three toys that appeared, one was a mini pin ball (a spring that you pulled and went ‘ping’ and a ball leapt out landed on a number), the other was a Meccano. Now you can imagine a kid in India who has never seen anything like a Meccano, I wont forget how I played with this over the next several months (I needed time to build all those suggested items in the booklet), and how I didn’t turn out to be a mechanic is a miracle. Mamaji says ‘and I brought a big radio’, which is probably still collecting dust somewhere in the house. Then it was the first radio in the neighbourhood. Dad, who also went to England in the years immediately following Mamaji (1957), was the one who introduced us to the Tape Recorder. I expplain to the Spanish gang, ‘you should have seen when Mamaji and Dad went to London. The whole family from all over India assembled at the airport. There used be the propellor planes, and there was the whole family crying and Mamaji laden with garlands.’ One story goes that some foreigner at the airport asked if someone had died, and was amazed to learn that the crowd (there were possibly fifty people) was there to see someone off. ‘It looks like he is going to be hanged’, Mamaji expands the story in his usual way . The stories continue, when Dad left a couple of years after, my grandmother wanted to see what the inside of the plane looked like ‘just to make sure that it was OK for her son’! Mamaji remembers her saying ‘Oh it looks like a fish that is going to take my son.’ There are many B&W photos of the departures showing Mamaji and Dad laden with flowers etc. One of Dad’s friend is known to have commented when he later departed for Africa, ‘Be careful, there are cannibals in Africa!’ These were truly pioneers in our family. When Dad had arrived and settled down in Africa he bought a car, and he sent us a catalogue of the Peugeot 303. I remember we were so proud, we went up and down the street showing people the car that Dad had bought. Mamaji says ‘Africa was very good’ and they were exciting times for us. Africa in 1960 was very different from now. Ghana was a rich country (unlike the present), you could get everything you could wish for. The talk returns to admiring the Indian clothes of the Spaniards. Mamaji compliments me on the way Pablo’s turban looks (kamal kar diti e). I ask Mamaji to tell us some stories from Africa. We briefly remember the coming of Queen Elizabeth to Accra, Mamaji was working at the airport in those days, so we piled into his car and gained entrance to the proceedings. There were miles of queues but Mamaji knew how to get inside from his knowledge of the Airport layout. We had a paper with some Ids and the word ‘Official’ written in big letters. Mamaji would wave this at every check point, the police would look at all these impressive turbanned and Sareed folks in the car and wave us on! We revisit the Lome crab lunch story (told elsewhere in this document), and then Dad tells another eating related story. ‘We went for dinner to Dr Gulshan’s house. Mrs Gulshan had made a prawn curry and rice. Very delicious.’ Auntyji who also enjoyed the meal, was explaining to Mom and others at breakfast the next morning how delicious the Rice preparation was with soft Cashew Nuts! Dad immediately volunteered that they were’nt Cashews but Prawns! Now no one knew that Auntyji had some aversion to Prawns, so were amazed to find her rushing to the bathroom and being terribly sick at the thought of eating prawns. Mamaji continues, ‘Another time I had gone on leave and returned to Ghana. Bawa Sahib had come to meet me at the airport, took me home, we had dinner and when I went to bed, I opened my suitacse, and I find that it is full of ladies underwear, knickers and nighties etc. I was quite embarrassed because there were still some people around me. I quickly shut the suitcase and we returned to the airport. There was an official who appeared to be drunk at the airport. He asked "whatz ze problem", and we explained that we had the wrong suitcase. The official pointed to somewhere inside the office and said that we should go and have a look for ourselves "go and take a look if you can find anything". We went and found a suitcase which was very similar to the one I had taken but obviously was mine. We asked the man what we should do, and he said "just take it!" When we said what we should do with the wrong one he said "you keep it"!’ I guess we could have come home with lots of suitcases! We remember other things like the Market sellers would call Mom and Auntyji, "Brownie" or "Indian Mami". We also recall when Mamaji had to go to Takoradi to take delivery of his Mercedes, which he had imprted from Germany. Mamaji and I went together because I knew how to drive the Merc. Dad had bought one a few months earlier. So Mamaji says ‘Dicky, you drive it’. I get going and at some point Mamaji falls asleep for about fifteen minutes. When he woke up I had covered a relatively large distance. He asked where we were and I informed him that we were nearly in Kumasi (about a 100 miles from Takoradi). He could’nt believe it (how did you get here so soon!). I had been doing about 90 MPH while he was asleep. The Takoradi road was new and excellent, and there was usually hardly any traffic in those days, and a new Mercedes really great to drive. Daddy ji remembers that he once fell asleep on the wheel when driving from Akosombo to Accra. He recalls that he was driving fast and there was no traffic on the road. Miles and miles with no cars. (Same as in Delhi nowdays I ask). I stopped, washed my face and sat for a few minutes. So dangerous. We continue admiring the Sarees that the Spanish girls have bought, everyone wants to know the prices (330 to 1500 rupees), and what they are going to do with them ( fancy dress, gifts and resale). Dad says that the Indian boys in Spain would be impressed but there virtually none around where they have come from (unless you count me occasionally visiting!). Montse explains that in Canary Islands there are lots of Indians. Dad & I stayed in the Islands on some flights from Ghana to London. Mamaji says Spaniards were very adventurous, went to many parts of the world, and in fact they came to India also, and stayed in the south, and it is said that Christianity was brought to India by those people (and Portuguese). There are very old Churches in the south around Kerala, Sri Lanka & Goa. Dad says that the Christians in the south have adopted Indian cultural traditions wear Indian clothes but have Christianity as religion. Montse is talking about how nice Pablo’s turban is and I recall Mamaji’s story about a funeral where a man keeps complimenting the dead person’s turban and how nice it looks. After he has made the same comment three or four times Mamaji has to take him aside to point out that it’s a bit insensitive to keep complimenting the appearance. The Spaniards ask if the turban is very hot in summer. I explain that its very fine material and some air circulates through it. Mamaji jokes that it puts stress on the head and that one may go mad (eh pagal ho jaye ga). Mamaji tells Pablo to remove it if it molests him (chuk ke bahr mare sohri da). The Spaniards are complimenting the food, Jone says she loves the type of food, it’s a mixture of Indian and some Chinese style food. Mamaji jokes that hopefully they don’t get sick, we remember a comment from another uncle of mine forty years ago when I was sick, and a doctor prescribed antibiotic capsules. (mein te pehlan I ahndan san ke capsool deyo su). A discussion on malaria and mosquitoes ensues followed by a more sinister review of snakebites (some people in Africa were immune to snakebite – perhaps the snake might die!). Dad tells how they had seen people in Zambia drinking snake venom, and supposedly it gives you immunity. I joke that the throat medicine (Poison) that Mamaji gave Marisol earlier may have been from a snake. More photos in Indian clothes, Jone and I, then the three Maria’s (Dad jokes tin marian). I translate that ‘tin marian’ means las tres muertas. The girls find that hilarious. Mamaji and others deny the translation. Montse chips in with ‘las tres marias, la caca la mierda y la porqueria’. Marisol is describing how people at the Sikh temple earlier had been bowing and saluting me. ‘maybe they thought I was a ragi’. I joke that if I had crosslegged outside the temple I might have attracted a following, and people throwing money for my benefit. Mamaji says ‘you are very respected man’, and I joke ‘and very well known’, as if everyone in town knows me. Dad asks if I had been wearing jeans which would have identified me differently (I had not). Mom says with what I am wearing now (Kurta/Pyjama), I could even go and meet the president, which leads us to comment how ridiculous the Indian President looks in real life. (joker jeya) Mamaji says that it’s the reason that no one has married him (he is single). The Prime Minister also takes some stick, he is also single. Mamaji jokes that the PM married several times but all the wives ran away. Dessert is taken. (ehnan nu pinni khwaiye). Everone is full and bursting. Gajrela, carrot halwa. Its got nuts (almonds and cashews) and raisins and it’s a hot dish. No one knows what cashew is in Spanish (have to ask Natalia’s dad who runs a shop in Laredo that sells them). I comment that we are at least three kilos heavier than when we arrived from London. I tell everyone the gimmick that the Dining Room restaurant in Hersham has at its Christmas dinners, where if after the dinner if you can finish one of their desserts then they give you another free! Seconds are suggested, you appreciation if you have a second helping and/or if you belch. Marisol says we also had a big lunch earlier that day at Chanda and Pammi’s. I suggest we should go for a run to use up some of the calories. Dad says we should have some Turron (Spanish concoction), of which we have truckloads brought by the Spaniards. Mamaji recalls that in Italy also there is some word like Torin (perhaps Turin, the Fiat stronghold). I explain that Popy and I have been talking across the Internet using a Webcam. Manjeet and Anil gave us one as a Christmas gift and we had hooked up with Sydney. Popy had showed us the new offices of his company. Popy and his colleagues were in formal work clothes (it was morning in Sydney). Marisol and I were in pyjamas and me without a turban (it was the night before). More recently they have had an inauguration ceremony for the new offices, where they invited a rapping ragi (singer of religious hymns), who was a real hit with the attendees. We are discussing the purchases of the Spaniards. Everyone has bangles and they are showing all the different colours. The Indians we are saying how the Spaniards find everything so cheap and buy everything in large quantities. Sarees, scarves, shoes, bangles everything they buy by multiples. Auntijy wants to know the prices of everything (she is our price index and chief negotiator). We then discuss the pearl necklace that Marisol is wearing, a special deal from Pablo’s jewellery shop in Bilbao. |