Category: Daft Blogs of an Indian

What is the point?

I do not know where I come from, or will go to, Is my time here  only once?

If so do I make the best of everything now?

Is it a legacy? Or it it living life?

Is it about now, today or tomorrow?

Is it about health wealth and happiness? If so, is it to make, create and innovate? What is the point?

Is it about effort, passion and so on?

What is the point, if one cannot stand still, reflect at the beauty and complexity of nature, of hills and valleys, of sunshine and rain, 

Is it harmony and balance? 

Of nature, day and night, external and internal

Of the soul, intellect, mind, speech and action

What is the point?

Is it right to assume that I think therefore I am

Can you remember the ‘I’ at the age 10? Or 5 years ago?

Did you look different? So are you what you think?

What is the point?

Is it about that urge, hankering, or desire that is permanent ? To satisfy? Does it?

What is the point?

Or about ego often enveloping the mind and intellect? Or tearing down that ego though forgiveness, connection, humility, love, and compassion 

What is the point ?

Or regrets about the past and anxieties about the future , or just living in the moment ?

What is the point?

Forgivenes

On a crisp October Sunday morning last year, Councillor Bill Hartnett, the Redditch Council leader, Meena and myself, drove across to the Moseley Buddhist Centre. Don’t worry we did not go out to change our faith or belief system, although I could easily have done with a dose of yoga!

This is merely the place where we start our annual multi-faith walk where we walk, and talk with people from different backgrounds and visit their place of worship, if any. 

So on this one we had a lady in Birmingham who joined us partway and left part way, and had exchanged contact with Meena. She organises an annual event at her home and gathers women from different backgrounds at her home for sharing their reflections. This year there were women from four three countries!  So she says.

Getting a word in edge ways must be difficult, so I imagine there must be special reflections, and there were a handful this year. One poignant one was of a South African white woman whose nineteen year daughter was killed by a black young man, just before the end of apartheid, during the era of Pik Botha.

The mother asked to meet this man to ask him why he killed her daughter. He said that when he did what he did he was only thinking of the cause, and nothing else. The mother then forgave him. And her instant feeling was freedom from the shackles of her thoughts about this mans action. She was unlikely to meet him again, but her thoughts were freed to focus on more positive aspects of life.

This is not, of course an isolated story, and killings were from both sides. Nelson Mandela, was not just known for his fight against oppression and the many years in jail. His greatest legacy was that he did not bring South Africa into the abyss of a war against  former minority rulers. Instead he bought in a peaceful transition. 

And one method  was through the truth and reconciliation mission. Hundreds of victims families and adversaries, black v white, white v black met, wept, and moved on. The reconciliation was personal and in the mind, rather than meeting the adversary again.

In our small ways we need to release from our own mind those same trappings so that we can occupy it with more positive issues. Persistent hate is a pressurised balloon of anger that needs to be dissipated and make space. The victims mother required a lot of courage, and most of us require just a tiny fraction of that to sort those negative balloons in our minds and be free. 

I attended Church three times in the last three months, once in Birmingham (St Martins..beautiful) on our faith walk, and twice near Studley Castle, a near Redditch. The Church is in set off a narrow country lane and is a few hundred years old. Some months ago it was for a wedding of a colleague, and a couple of months thereafter  it was for the funeral service and burial of his mother. Matthew 6:12 ,which asks ‘And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us’  was another reminder of forgiveness at the best and worst of times. 

The idea of the multi-faith walk came when I went to a Charity Walk  in Leicester about three years ago organised by the Friends of the Oxford Centre of Hindu Studies. We walked to each of the seventeen Hindu temples in Leicester, saying a  prayer, with maybe a prasadam and walking on. A sort of a pilgrimage!  I did not need to just go to India. 

In Birmingham,we do not have so many temples, so somehow with a  group we organise and attend Sikh, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist temples, and ask them to talk for a few minutes about a specific topic…this year peace. To me it’s the walking with different people which is incredibly enriching, as the experience Meena had with this lady. The peace message was virtually the same, dressed in different ways.

As for the Cllr Bill Hartnett , after the walk he was so excited, and called this experience a myth buster.  He wants to organise one in Redditch as an annual event. As we have mostly Churches, I am relishing the thought of understanding the variety of Christian denominations and we intend to attend a Sikh service and Hindu discussion.

On that note, it seems to me that debate and discussion about all our beliefs is a healthy development of common values.

Mr. Popaat

Around 2005, I was working as a community pharmacist in Banbury, a small town in Oxfordshire. 

It was a normal bustling day with lots of clinical checks on prescriptions, and advice for over the counter medicines.

One afternoon, an English care worker from a local peoples home came in and asked for a prescription for Mr Popat, which she pronounced as Popaat.    I spontaneously and politely corrected the care worker that the name should be correctly pronounced as Mr Pop-ut. Fortunately, she was understanding, and pleased that she had finally found somebody who could maybe communicate and find out more about this quiet elderly resident.

She said that Mr Popat , around 75 years,  did not understand English, and none of the staff knew his language. He was reclusive and mostly stayed in bed, and had written some words on his wall. He was referred to them by the local Council  as he could not manage on his own in the accommodation provided.  He was often seen walking as a ‘down and out’  in scruffy clothes  and given food by the local Pakistani community. His mobility  had got worse due to his diabetes, with ulcers etc, and eventually was provided a room in the Care Home. 

She asked whether I would visit Mr Popat, as there was very little information about him and whether he had any relatives. I explained that I was from the same Indian subgroup in Gujarat called Lohanas, and maybe able to help.  That evening after closing the pharmacy , I went across to visit Mr Popat. 

In his tiny room was a small desk, sink, and Mr Popat was curled up in the bed. My first words with him were Jay Shree Krishna…and he responded immediately with the same words.  The next words were ‘Habari Yako’, and he responded with ‘Muzuri Sana’. 

The care workers were delighted that he could understand and respond. With those four words, I knew he was an Indian, Gujarati, Lohana, and Hindu originating from East Africa, as he understood Kiswahili.  He eyes had brightened and he was delighted that he could reach out. The care workers were all excited and all this quickly went around the home.

The workers and even the local council wanted me to delve more, and I started visiting him more, despite being around 35 miles from where I lived. Very little was known about Mr Popat. He was clearly traumatised and perhaps slow, and gently in our conversations I pieced together that he has brought as a child to Uganda, (around 1940) from India and lived with a Popat family in Jinja. All his life he had worked in the family shop, and had never been married but remembered that he had a sister in India. 

In 1972, the president of Uganda, Idi Amin, expelled Asians  to leave the Uganda without any possessions, within three months, or they would be forcibly removed or killed. A few did get killed including a cousin of mine.  Many thousands of Ugandan Asians decided to exercise their  British nationality, on account of having been in Uganda since the colonial days.

On arrival at Heathrow, Mr Popat, according to him, lost his family/employer.  The UK government provided families with accommodation in various camps and eventually found them housing. Mr Popat , ended up somewhere in Oxford, and was subsequently Banbury. 

So for the next few years I would visit him from time to time, and one Christmas took my children to visit him with some Indian food and sweetmeats (rationed of course as he was diabetic). I kept an eye on his medication and saw various carers looking after him. And I would often get called to translate what he was saying, and he became much more cheerful. On one occasion he said he had not been to an Indian Temple since he had arrived to the UK more than 35 years ago. Neither Oxford or Banbury had a Hindu Temple, so I arranged for him to visit the Hindu Community Centre in Birmingham. He was by then in a wheel chair but was determined to visit the temple.

On another occasion he said he would like to meet or get in contact with his sister in Gujarat,  who he had not seen since childhood days. This was difficult call as he could not remember his town, although he said somewhere around Porbander, in Gujarat, India. I knew it would be impossible to find out, as this was many years ago, and would require visiting India and places to find out further information about his family. However, I knew there were Popat families in the UK, mostly around London and Leicester . I made many calls and nobody could remember him. I suppose this was about an event 35 years ago, and most of the fist generation would have passed away by then.

Around 2009, I was told that Mr Popat was ill and had to be admitted to hospital. I visited him and was told he would be out in a few days. Sadly, I got a call one early morning at about 4 am that he would not survive, so I drove the 35 miles to the then Horton Hospital in Banbury. Mr Popat had passed away peacefully. The nurses were very supportive. I set by the bed, said some prayers and after a while started to take my leave, at which stage the nurse in charge asked me what arrangements was I going to make, and that I should take his suitcase.

It was then that it first dawned on me that I was assumed to be his next of kin, and that I would be responsible for his funeral, I phoned some Lohana elders in Birmingham about the matter, not knowing what to do. They said that according to tradition, I would have to find a priest, 5 witnesses one of whom would have to a male with the Sir name Popat!  I then called on some Lohana friends and they agreed, and even found someone from Coventry with the Popat Surname.

We arranged a crematorium, did the full Hindu ceremony for Mr Popat, with a priest, and a few weeks later, with some elders, spread his ashes in a flowing river, where my own fathers had been spread. I then distributed his meagre council savings to local causes in Banbury.

Reflections on Golf ..If Only…By Nitin Sodha

Bunta or marbles was my first exposure to any sport of relative seriousness, and failure. This was probably when I was about six years old and played in the courtyard of our family home in Kericho, where my uncle Pratap Raja, Kunchan Fai, Patu, Kirit and Raju lived.

Now their son, Kirit (and possibly all future sporting competitors) have some sort genetic advantage over me. Kirit was a tall eight year old who could flex his fingers to get maximal projectile advantage with the marbles, such that the force of the hit on my (bunta) almost broke them, and sent them shooting beyond normal human capacity.

I have since graduated into different sports mostly to do with balls from hockey, football, squash, and tennis. And recently retired from WPBC, the Winter Pansies Badminton Club after receiving my ‘invisible man’ T-shirt. In all these sports I have always attended the Christmas party, and made my presence felt, such that I secured the next game, even as a back-up.

So fifty years on from marbles, and with such a sporting pedigree, I felt that as my knees could get worse with tennis, I will have a go at golf. Looks so easy I thought, especially because I see golfers or mostly older people hitting the ball. Thought I would never play this sport, as there is no aerobic component, apart from hitting the ball, and perhaps it’s a good walk spoilt.

My first foray was in Marbella, after getting invited to play by a pharmaceutical company. So my nephew, Pritesh, gave me some clubs, and a little lesson (always use the seven iron, he said and if somebody asks you your handicap say 28), and I bought some black and white golf shoes from the local golf club. Oh, the pro there sold me five lessons, and I took one the day before.

So the first lesson was about the different clubs, and some are made of iron, and some I think wood. Then there are the wedges. Like the first car driving lesson, I did not hit a ball.

I ensured I had the best looking golf looking cap for my initiation in Spain. Got to look the part! Like tennis, there is an initial politeness, that golfers proffer, until you play, when the lower handicappers, go silently mental, and do quite disappearing acts.

In Spain, for some strange reason, I was asked to hit my ball first, so I placed the ball on the T, and somehow it fell off. I lined up like Ronaldo the Portuguese footballer, with a little puff and knee bend, took my stance, took a practice shot without hitting the ball. However, the wind made the ball fall off. I replaced the ball on the T, and took a shot, and the ball almost got scalped and fell a few feet ahead, in full view of an industry audience. I turned around, but Pritesh could not be seen despite his prominent frame.

I was asked to drive the buggy, and somehow went backwards. Ever since this episode of Mr Bean, I took a sabbatical from golf.

Only recently have I made made a re-entry, with encouragement from my brother Naval. I have always paid due respect to my older brothers, and he rightfully said that as I live near a golf course I should play, and so would he…I think that was his ulterior motive.  He brought me a PING bag, some Callaway Clubs ( for a while I used to call Galloway), an Ericsson hat, and surely my golf has to improve. It has improved, well sort of, sometimes, and and mostly when alone.

My first improvement was that the ability to find one’s ball when you hit it in the bush. I learnt the term line, and soon, if I did not find mine, I would find somebody else’s. The second improvement was that the zig-zags became bigger, or somehow I was getting closer to the green, with a relatively smaller ‘tour-de-France’.

Now golf is not just about playing. It’s also about etiquette, much like ball room dancing. Cardinal sins, never walk on somebody’s line, do not talk and release even the tiniest wind when somebody is hitting the ball. And take your turn on the ‘dance’ floor. And ladies have grace in terms of the distance they hit, and can do a little elf flick on hitting.

Though major levels of polite bribery, and connections, I have recently been admitted to the Birmingham Pharmacists Golf Society (BPGS), and it has long standing members from lots of places outside Birmingham. And also the Friends Golf Society, which was kindly introduced to me by my brother Pankaj, who is a career golfer.

The other aspect of golf is banter, and the frequency of this is inversely
proportional to the level of acquaintance. But, this requires a robust enough understanding of the language, and despite being multilingual, this is like learning Sanskrit on the side. Perhaps it’s my age, or embarrassment in asking questions.

I have had some flattering comments, regarding dog-legs to the left, where I draw the ball. Only recently, somebody told me that means you tend hit the ball to the left if the fairway goes that way! I do not think I will ever be able to fade the ball, that is hit it to the right on T-off, but at least I will be able to make the courteous (and jealous) comment when somebody else does.

Golfers also talk to the ball, like go go go! And well out!  My hearing is poor, so recently when I pitched a ball onto the green, I spoke to mine, saying shit, shit, shit, having listened to others say it. It’s actually sit, sit, sit. I wonder whether this game formally involved having a dog!

So I have recently played with my brother-in-law Subodh, lads from the Friends Society who have mastered the art of 24/7 banter including on What’s App, BPGS (some new people and friends…until they get to know my golf) , and abroad.

A couple of weeks ago it was Portugal for a whole week of Golf with pharmacists from all around the UK. The weather was lovely, hotel was great, the food was excellent, and the golf was well….. if only it went in!

I was however, on the last day, matched up with three lovely ladies, and we nearly had a picnic. I discovered one thing in common with them, I can multitask, and recently I have taken up philosophical thinking alongside golfing! The journey carries on.

Good Day!  It does have a lot of meanings.

Episodical Memory – 18 May 2014

Most of us remember where we were when 9/11 happened. If you are drunk and  think of some key words, you are unlikely to remember  them sober
unless you are drunk. These are two random examples of episodical memory.

So since the US I have been to one shok sabah, one funeral, one wedding, a Gurudwara, a couple of golf sessions, a talk on faith, and cannot remember what I have done the rest of the time, except one specific occasion of an award ceremony.

I was not really aware of what the event was about, but was invited by my accountant, and it’s always best to catch them for advice when they cannot charge you. The dress code was black tie, and I did not have one, so quickly bought one, went to the event, and half way into the event discovered that the security tag was not removed from my jacket. Lexon won the Healthcare Business Award ( or something like that) for the Midlands. Anup and Pritesh collected it, and duly thanked their good accountant and solicitor. Funny, how you remember trivia, particularly when it’s got some sort of association.

An award by its nature is an association to superiority, and this differentiation often leads celebrations  of Oge, Oge Oge…..some of you may not remember the usage of the expression of victory….particularly when inebriated. When you write Oge backwards it becomes ego. But surely recognition is a necessity for set an example of best practice, improvement, an aim. So taken with humility it was, and I congratulate the team that achieved all this. And well done Arsenal and Arsene for the FA Cup Victory.

As I write, India has been Modi..fied. His first tweet was ‘ accche  din ayenge’ . I sincerely hope so for the 100’s of millions of Indians who are living in abject poverty. And his first job should be to declare war on those that do not pay tax ( according to some well informed sources, Indians have the highest amounts in Swiss Banks), and establish an upla wala jail. Then create trust amongst the investment community both local and international. Immediate focus should be in infrastructure projects with reach in healthcare , education, and transportation.

I hope he delivers as he has done so in Gujarat, although must say that whilst Gujarat wealth has increased whilst modi has been Chief Minister, it does not rate well in education and healthcare. If he does not, I will still visit him for a cup of tea in Vadnagar!

Today I am at another wedding in London for Anisha and Shillen wedding sitting proudly next to my nephews, Dr Kiran Sodha, his wee brother Dhiren, gorgeous niece Anaeka and her Honewala…Ravi. Both the latter are studiously watching the wedding. Anisha is the granddaughter of my Masi from Mombasa in the Ruparelia  family. Both look great, and it’s amazing how connected Lohana wedding guests are…the early version of internet.

I have met my Nairobi Faibas son, Raju, an ex employee, and the son of shorty provision store, even shorter…Nathubhai. Then all the Mamis side, Shilpa, our Sudha Gauri…etc etc .  Then Dipakbhai from Varodara, Raj and his fiancée, a wedding that I intend to attend in Nairobi. Everybody’s says words like Kem Che, Tu Kya khovaigyo Che, chokoro moto thi gyo……

The parents of Anisha, Neeta and Harshad, are delighted that the groom has guaranteed that she will happy and well looked after. Every parents dream.

San Francisco – 26 Feb 2014

There has so much been said about San Fran…that anymore would surely be a challenge but for it’s myriad characteristics. This is a microcosm of all that is great about the USA.

So Meena and myself went to visit this great city after the AA  family wedding in Los Angeles. Immediately on arrival, one notices a much greener city, with Victorian Buildings and streets that a giant would think are carved as steps on hills. My history says that Captain Cook ‘discovered’ America. So the first place for homage would be Coit Tower to get a panoramic view of the City, from which you can see Golden Gate Bridge, Bay Area, Docks, Bay Bridge, bits of China Town, and even the Golden Gate Park.

My last visit was in 1980 as students who had barely made it to this place from Reno delivering a car from the east coast. We were broke and had a foray acting as guides, to survive almost hand to mouth. But we were not scared or frightened, particularly as this was probably the best place to land in….the place with so much diversity and tolerance.

We stayed in the Fishermans Wharf area in a boutique hotel overlooking the lots of bars, etc but it was mainly with tourist shops selling many versions of the SF dream. The best part for me was an early morning run from there towards the Golden Gate. And of course a favourite hobby …..food.

First meal , Thai, massive, with huge soup, green curry, papaya salads., and good value. Always under order! Then Boudins ….famous for its sour bread…..amazing. Onto a Vietnamese (hot), of course morning Bagels, so much choice, with regular coffees. Americans probably are the best at coffee. Most of all the service in each of these places was exceptional. For once, I felt that the vendors genuinely cared. Almost everybody is or was an immigrant, and a proud American!. And so civil.

We also took time to go to Yosemite National Park, about a five hour journey from SF, by bus,  and train (Amtrak). Must go to this place at least once, we stayed over a day, and spent most of the time outdoors walking and hiking. A most memorable walk up misty trail… The rocks are some go the biggest in the world. Here I learn that this great state boasts the tallest waterfall, trees, mountain (?), and lowest point below sea level in Death Valley. We stayed at the Ahwamee, which has a historical significance, and overrated. It was also where the film Shining was shot…remember Redrum, REDrum, !REDRUM ……..write this backwards in red!

Back in SF, we enjoyed travelling on the tram ( a train on the step streets), street car ( an electric bus on the normal streets), and a normal bus on normal streets. Walked into Chinatown, and toward the commercial district. Clean beautiful city, with cafés of every type from Italian to Mexican. There was an interesting street dancer doing a step dance (feel guilty…did not drop a dollar for him), an African American on the street hiding behind some cut branches and scaring everybody, and on Union Square young student dancers. Overall we barely scared the surface.

No wonder Google, Facebook, Amazon, Silicon Valley are all in the vicinity…inspiration in a quality, temperate coast line.

On the last day we succumbed to some shopping in Union Square, and of course Anand’s special shaving liquid for the best shave in the world.

The best part on our way back home was when we went to see our Trina, and children. Also met her wonderful in-laws. Trina lives in an absolutely idyllic neighbourhood, and she is a busy busy mum, and Sanjiv is working and studying very hard.

Thank you America, California and SF….enjoyed staying ….and will come back, and leave you with what Herb Caen said

One day if I go to heaven…I’ll look around and say, ‘ It ain’t bad, but it ain’t San Francisco’.

Ashish and Amee Wedding Day – 24 Feb 2014

No superlatives can easily describe such a glorious day for the beautiful couple about to get married. On this sunny Saturday morning the friends and families were all getting ready in their best outfits . As is tradition, the extended families ,friends and guests of the bride were all out to receive the bridegroom.

There was so much colour, excitement, traditional Gujrati songs, children and adults all close together waiting for the bridegroom to arrive. We were all taken aback that Ashish was arriving in an elephant. Hey, n this is The US of A, and surely this was unreal. But lo and behold there he was, with a turban, veil, a decorated elephant, coming across as a prince to get married, fronted by his dancing retinue,singing traditional punjabi songs amongst loud dholki!

This is not easy for photographers ( so many flashing) as everybody is so excited, trying to get closer to the action. As the groom dismounts, and the elephant gracefully retreats, the formal welcoming starts with the respective elders from each side. There is plenty of singing, and Vinu welcomes Ashish’s father, and they have the traditional cuddling competition with with by an elder couple from each side. So much fun. I was to mind  Saya, and she was so focused on the event, she forgot who was carrying her….that was a special!

So all onto the ceremony at the top of the Marriot, wedding in open air, in a spectacular setting, with the mandvo in the far end, a setting to capture  the feel of a perfect day, and so it was. Plenty of flowers, garlands, colour, amidst a blue, fresh, cool, Californian morning.

After the usual Nasta, and masala tea, the witnesses to this ceremony were called to settle down, and the Sodha brothers, walk onto the ‘Mehdan’ in twos and unison, and stand aside for our beautiful princess Amee being surrounded by her bridesmaids and escorted and given away by her maternal uncle, Vinubhai.

There was plenty of cheering, and the grand finale started in earnest with the hindu priest getting everybody to settle down. The bride and the bridegroom are of course the focus, with the priest working them though the relevant feras, and symbolism.
My sister, Niru sang  though each of the feras in Gujarati, and the song probably is still ringing in most ears. The meaning of each of the feras were explained, and this is an incredibly personal, and wise meaning that has stood the test of time for thousands of years. For all that are married, they probably reflect on the same when they did.

There are of course the fun events such as the stealing of the bridegrooms shoe, and three or four galant youngsters, including Nimesh, Maya and our Driren mastermind the ‘theft’. There is a handsome reward and the opposite ‘army of defeated youngsters’ are planning a recovery by to no avial. Then there  is the ‘dominant partner test’ …who sits down first and whilst I missed it, the answer is obvious, Amee. Many a women have occupied this seat, whatever her husband thinks!

Now for the congratulations, photos, photos, and photos of all the families with Dr Ashish Kapoor and his bride, Dr Amee Kapoor. Then we all get downstairs for the farewell, Vidai. Kleenex is a must on these occasions, and after the traditional ‘goodbyes’, the bride is carried away on a carriage by her cousins to the awaiting transportation befitting the occasion…..a Roller. There is the coconut breaking ceremony on the wheel of the car, and the holding it back tradition for a kings ransom which was making the cousins excitable and depleting the groom of his last reserves. Off they go…….and we all relax and retire for the reception!

The evening event was in the grand hotel ball room, with Ashishs family making a singing and dancing entrance followed a Rikshawala, with a bride. That was classic. Then the speeches, all thanking everybody, and without much ado, after Vinus speech, Amee’s. She captured all her thoughts and feelings in a deeply emotional way for her wonderful sister, friend, and confidante.

Finally it was a party….fortunately stayed sober….and remember all the dances, the dancing, the dancing competition, the food, and drink.  Man….the Bhangra styles and variations were in full swing after the beautiful dances by the bridesmaids, and friends, and of course the newly weds.

This great state, California, has witnessed the marriage of our beautiful daughter to her handsome husband, and the Sodha parivar wish them the very best always.
I want to personally thank Vinu, Ushabhabi, Sanjeev, Trina, and of course Amee for this fantastic family occasion that brought us all together in harmony.

Amee  and Ashish ,well done, and our blessings to a long and happy marriage.

Me Kai Khoto Kithu Hoi, ka Kairu Hoi to maf Karjo!

Jay Shree Krishna

The Pithhi Ceremony at Vinus – 23 Feb 2014

On Thursday morning, the Mehndi night was still ringing in my ears, with all the memories of the great performances. Ashish’s dance was just amazing, he can even cartwheel! And Amee was just graceful and divine. Ashish’s sister performed her dances with gusto in no small measure, as did the bridesmaids…thank you all for such a great evening.

The theme for the men was yellow and Pankaj saved my bacon by having purchased just the shirt I needed.

On the  coach to Beverley Hills with the brides team side, I reflected on the Easter Sunday gone when we had Vishal from Mumbai visiting us. I took him to Stratford-Upon-Avon, to see Shakespeare’s birthplace and his associated houses etc. Did you know that the bard had introduced at least three thousand words in the English language? However, even he would be shaking in his pants at the number that Americans have introduced.

For example, on boarding the bus Americans say line, we say queue,  the route  is pronounced ‘root’ not ‘rout’, sidewalk, crosswalk, broad walk etc. Trying to be smart, I knew that Main Street was in most cities, and that certain street names are commonly used almost in all US cities, as I assume that perhaps they eventually interconnect. So for a while I thought that there is a  street called Ped Xing, named after an Imperial Chinaman.  There is always a zebra crossing near the road sign.

My renal function is relatively high, so I had quickly mastered the words washroom and bathroom, both of which would be be inappropriate in English, English, and be deemed as idioms in American English. Then there is trash, for bin. Diversity is fun, and if one is so concerned about the variances to the lingo, go to India. It’s rapidly turning into Hinglish. For example, there they don’t eat food, they take it, and coming from the rear of a building is described as coming from the backside!

The Coach journey was a party and a half. Antakshari, was initiated by Samir and a British team vs a US team were formed. The songs were flowing from Mukesh, Asha, Lata, Kavita Krisnamurthy, and even Sonu Nigam. Best coach trip I have had in years, with so much laughter, and banter. One of the bridesmaids is a brilliant singer, and I believe that she should give up this medical lark, and devote herself to this talent. Most of us tried to ‘sing’, but must admit some of them started with the chorus, and turned to solos by line two, and humming by three. Three cheers to all.

Informed sources tell me that the Pithi Ceremony is about beautifying the bride, and preparing her for marriage. The earlier part was a religious ceremony, with Vinu, Ushabhabi, and family and friends sitting with the priest on the floor in the lounge, surrounded by all the women.

The  Hindu priest was  a white American from the Hare Krishna Sampradaya who conducted it in Sanskrit and English. He also made it into fun, starting with the usual Ganesh Puja to protect the bride, groom and families.The extent of my mastery of Sanskrit in this ceremony starts at OM and ends with Swaha….intermingled with the Gayatri Mantra. The youngsters were watching with avid interest, and the sense that our Amee was getting married becoming all too real. Toward the end, there were tears in many an eye, and Amee’s were delicately wiped by both Ushabhabhi, Trina and Sushma.  There was a lot of mixed emotions, and the sense of It all was palpable around the room.

Witnessing all this were the elders, of course, including a lovely elderly couple, and including Sanjeev’s father provided a sense of comfort, particularly for Vinu. Niru and Sanjeev’s mum got busy in the kitchen, the priest went across to the next ceremony, and we all sat in the Courtyard and had a hearty Gujrati meal. Undhiu was a favourite, and combined with some cuchories, and Coca Cola.

Amee was surrounded by folk putting the Pithi on her face, and an occasional gal or nose pinch, and she would respond by putting some Pithi on her beautiful friends. We wrote a message on a piece of cloth, and I managed some Gujrati wishes from Anand who had sadly missed this wedding due to exams.

In the afternoon, we driven on the coach from Beverley Hills, through Rodeo Drive, onto Hollywood , and walked all over the famous stars. Neel is a great guide, and gave us a lot of obscure miscellany, and his pride for LA and California is obvious. We then went across to the oldest farmers market in the area and whilst Meena was not looking I felt prey to my fetish, another hat! Nick bought a great sign which said something to effect ‘ Elderly Persons Parking’.

Neel then took us to the Hare Krishna temple where Niruben, Yogini and Druv were perfect hosts. We went into the temple paid our respects, and had a short session on the floor doing the Maha Mantra, ‘Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare, Hare, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare’. The prayers were for Amee and Ashish to have a very happy long marriage….I added In a few nippers!

The symbolism and meaning of this part cannot be underestimated, and I challenge anybody who cannot find inner peace and harmony doing this or any Maha Mantra.
Niruben, and Druv distributed the Bhagavad Gita to all, and I had occasion to sit next to Harriet, and explained to her a very brief essence of this chapter of the Mahabharata and gave my BG to her.

In the evening, back at the hotul (spelt as pronounced) a one to one with some of the guests! including Sanjeev’s dad, Sudhirbhai. He was siting cross legged in the hotel lounge and answering e-mails. He is so involved in charitable works, including in Varodara, and at home on the East Coast. His two and a half hour daily yoga and meditation sessions are remarkable, and no wonder at 70 he is so full of life. We had some friendly chats with some of Ashish’s friends who had just arrived for the wedding, and Sudhir Bhai made the banter fun.

The evening ended with an arm wrestle with a youngster half my age, and I like the expression win by hook or crook.

Sangeet and Mehndi – Feb 22 2014

Jet lag has a yo-yo effect, in that you start going the other way sooner than you think. So the international travellers either looked spritely, or worse for wear. I met up with Pankaj outside the lobby, and onto Sams Beagles. The Sodhas started rolling in, and my view is that beagles are the best thing since sliced bread. There was even approval from Nainabhabhi, and enough said.

Thursday was the day without travel, as the Sangeet evening was in the same hotel. So, Umesh on Mukesh’s recommendation decided to go to a good value area, and Meena and Kavita went to a Freida Karlo exhibition at Museum of Latin American Artists, in Long Beach.

My mind was on the Beach Volleyball, so I walked along with Nikhil, to look for a hat. Bald people dream about these things…I even sleep with one of them! Onto Farmers market, banter with an OM stall, for items befitting Venice Beach. Meet the key man for the Volleyball competition, who Anil did a great job, bringing the kit, and organising us into three teams. I was the only Uncle (Nick was there too, but  I don’t know where he was called that) there so I maximised on taking advantage.

Rugby is often used as a metaphor for teamwork, and business. I would rather use beach volley ball. It’s about focus, speed, flexibility (changing sides), helping team members, encouragement, grounded, rule-bound, can be mixed sex, and above all fun! Rugby is male dominated, and and comes across as aggressive.

The Americanos were great fun, with lots of adjustable rules, politeness, and scores that allowed the team I was in to win. It was great to see Maya, Olivia, Isha (who got an amazing back-flip), Nikhil, Nimesh, and Druv all having a go. One P take ( taking a Mickey, for those who are not entitled to understand this) was when Druv tried to serve, we would say wait wait wait….. My American team actions and words got enhanced with ‘let’s go’, don’t clap but slap you palms with your partners frequently, and what you doing man! There was even pizza, and it all finished at 5 pm, a civil time to prepare for the highlight The Mehndi.

The extent of planning and hard work by Amee and family in this event was all to apparent. Lots of beautiful friends, families of both sides starting arriving at the function room at the top. The women were beautifully dressed with vibrant colours, and Amee just looked special. The men were mostly in traditional dress, and with the evening sun setting over the spectacular city, the place was picture perfect. So lots of pictures, and and as it unfolded,the couple arrive with their entourage of the six bridesmaids, and the lad, Samir. What a spectacle, amazing, and special for Amee.

The entrances do the grooms family were just fun to watch, with dances to match even by Anishs grandfathers from both sides. Their dancing, particularly to the Bangra music, was so full of action, effort and variety, that well almost anything goes. Children in this occasion made it so personal, and Saya and Neya were in their element. There was a youngster on the dance floor, about six or seven, who would have left John Travolta standing.

Vinu and Ushabhabi, Trina and Sanjeev and children looked so colourfully dressed, but the winner was the bride. I am no good at women’s attire, but the dress Amee’s has worn just stood out. With shades of cream, silver, gold, soft flowing dress, with matching jewellery and stunning hair-do, Amee looked even more special. Vinukaka’s phagadi and dress, and height made him look like a king. I know of old that he lacks a penchant for dance, but his slow rhythmic head movements with raised arms, caught many any eye. The punjabi men of import of course was Anish, and he was ever so circled, that it was hard to get near.

As the rituals of giving saris etc went along, all the Sodha uncles had to do a little something to the groom, and give him a Malteser, and say a prayer. I think Pankaj said something about some perfumes, and mine was a quick mixture of the Gayatri Mantra and Armani.

There was fun all over, in the balconies, in the bar, and the food….we tend to over do in food and drink and this was no exception. Saw a a lovely African American family from Washington, with their proud little boy, who was variously dressed as a cool-suited dood doing Bangra movements, shirt out, having his milk bottle and in slumber in his parents arms, amongst a thunder of Bangra music.

Meena and myself sat with a couple, a doctor who had qualified in Pune, and had discussions about our recent tour around the area. Great place, buzzing with IT, food, weather, intellectuals, and rapid development. Amee’s Iranian school friend and neighbours were sitting near us, and the banter from the previous night extended.

My Nehru hat was a topic of conversation, as was how alike the brothers look, to which I take great exception! However, I discreetly asked Pankaj to wear my  hat, told him the gist of my conversation, and asked him to carry on chatting with the parents of the school friend. I would highly recommend this test to all my brothers or all those who look alike, to prove the validity of similarity. Please refrain from telling any would be migrants.

Amee and Ashish Jalsa – April 2014

There must be several ways of going back in time, but at the moment (!) I can only think of a couple, going westwards and looking up in the stars. The latter is less obvious, but we are part of a huge Milky Way, and Universe with many Suns and no doubt has planets with life. And the light from the Sun takes approximately 8 minutes to reach us, and much longer from the stars. So that which has hit you now came back from time.

Going westward today is also of huge significance, it is Amee’s wedding the younger daughter of my eldest brother Vinod and Ushabhabhi. In 2010  we had the momentous ‘going forward’ wedding of my niece Trina to Sanjeev. This was held in Dipikafai’s garden and was a very proud occasion for the Sodha family. It is now a lovely family, with two siblings Sana and Neya.

So sitting on the plane going back in time is going to capture a significant occasion for our family. Kakas and Kakis, Fuvas and faibas, Bhaiyo and bhenno, cousins, Friends have all reserved this momentous week to head toward the wedding. And likewise we hope to welcome the Kapoor’s Amee’s side.

So a few reflections on Amee…this girl is amazing. She is a sensitive, empathetic, loving daughter, sister, aunt, neice, cousin, has embraced east and west with grace. She has come to Birmingham when she was very young ( remember the Bus rides with dada?) and has constant laughter, and hay-fever. . She has trained as a doctor, and met her match with her Ashish, a handsome young doctor!

I vividly remember my first time in California in the early 1980’s variously as a backpacker, student, and a ‘tour’ guide. The state is just amazing with a fantastic temperate climate, with the sea, cities, mountains, parks, and almost every colourful species, whether bird, animal, or plant abounding here. There is so much variety, and the place is truly inspirational.No wonder it has produced Hollywood, and probably has more celebrities living here than anywhere else in the world. It’s creative energy is reflected with its huge technological contribution, and the State is really the harbinger of the future. I am glad my brothers and families live here.

So from LAX, we took a taxi ride (friendly Nigerian) to the Marriot at Marina del Rey, and walked along the sidewalk, via the broad walk toward Venice beach with skaters, surfers, bars, and tried to keep in touch with everybody via Amee’s Jalsa. The plan was to ten visit Vinu at Beverley Hills. By 6.30 we were knackered, and Meena rapidly started snoring.

I tried to stay up, and reflected on a Shakespearian quote..’ Brevity is the the soul of wit’ and a the possibility of a green card, but the usual blast propelled me into slumber.