It Is In The Genes.

Both my hipjoints crumbled in December 1980 and since then,  there are a few things that I miss not being able to do with my replaced and revised hip joints restricting my activities.

During my younger days among the many other things that I did was to be a keen motorcyclist. I have written about it in this blog post. In fact, just before and immediately after my marriage, the vehicle I used to first court my then fiancee and later wife, on two wheelers. The first, a Vespa scooter and the second a Jawa motorcycle.

Like all doting fathers encouraging their children to do things that they themselves cannot or could not do, I encouraged my son Ranjan to take up to motorcycling. From the time that he was old enough to get a driving license, he has had a series of two wheelers starting from a moped, graduating to a scooter and then on to motorcycles of various horsepowers till finally he has settled on a powerful roadster of the Royal Enfield brand.

When I was older but not very much wiser, my uncle who was a keen golfer took me under his wing and taught me how to play golf and got me a membership in a prestigious golf club too. I played regularly between 1967 and 1980. I was fairly good at it too and played to an officially posted handicap of 14. My hip joints gave way in 1980 and I had to stop playing.

Ranjan surprised me with an announcement a couple of weeks ago that he is taking up golf seriously. I was and continue to be delighted. Here he is practicing the chip shot.

From that clip I can see a good golfer emerging and I am delighted.

Here again I will see my dreams come true through Ranjan. I hope.

Nostalgia 7. The Oldest Thing In My Home.

A post on Facebook asked this question:

This took me back to 1975 and a very dear friend AC, who also happened to have been my boss at that time. He was retiring and moving to Andorra and was simplifying his possessions to suit the accommodation that awaited him in Andorra.

I was a struggling young man with a small family and had very little furniture. AC knew this well as he had visited our home often. He asked me if I could do him a favour by taking some furniture off his hands and offered two massive arm chairs and a quarter century old chest of drawers. A favour? Those were God sent gifts and I grabbed them with both hands and much gratitude.

The two armchairs, as old as the chest of drawers gave up their ghosts long ago but looked somewhat like this one below.

The Chest Of Drawers however continues to go strong and sits comfortably in my bedroom just short of three years to reach its Platinum Jubilee.

What is the oldest thing in your home?

Family!

A little background.

My daughter in love and my son, my one and only child are both deeply involved in Animal Welfare activities and have many like minded people come home for meetings and letting off steam. At times, the conversation tends to focus on adoptions of abandoned dogs and I inevitably quip to the person addressing the issue that I too am up for adoption as I do not see my DIL and / or Son much due to their very busy lives.

So, when DIL changed her DP on her WhatsApp page, I copy pasted the same on to a family group with the question, “Guess who stole my DP?”

I posted this on my Facebook page too and before too long, another member of my family, my one and only sister posted this in response.

You can see the play on the name of the author of that quote!

My earnest request to those who visit Facebook is to see the posts to see the comments there which took me to a different dimension of life.

And if you want to see how truly funny we are, you must visit this post and read all the comments there too.

Support.


Besides these two, I also have Email, Uncle Google,  two Resident Geeks and Kindle to get through my days.

Oddly enough, because I am better versed in handling these modern supports, I am the support and go-to person, for some friends who are not as blessed as I am, with Resident Geeks.

There are some who use me to fact check ‘forwards’ received by them. This is usually a terse “True?” either followed or preceded by the forward message, usually controversial or out of the ordinary. I inevitably oblige and find out the veracity about the message as if untrue, further forwarding can land people in trouble.

There are others who use me as their online buying agent, usually for books after some online research as well but, on the odd occasion, for other things from say Amazon or other online merchants. I haven’t yet fixed an Agency Commission but, am seriously considering doing so.

And finally, there are a couple of friends who use me as the conduit for making donations as they do not want their identities to be known to the recipients lest they be harassed for further donations. I happily oblige and am now considered to be a serious donor for some very deserving causes.

So, my supports have enabled me to become a support for others.

What about you dear reader? Are you satisfied with just being supported or, are you a support too?

Nostalgia 3.

The last post on Nostalgia that I wrote was in September last year. I find it strange that there have not been other triggers that could have led me to write other posts since then.

Be that as it may, there is another trigger which brings back so many memories that I have been revisiting many incidents that I had experienced those days.

A Facebook post showed this image with the question “Do you remember?”

I had responded with “As a travelling salesman in the sixties of the last century, the holdall was an absolute necessity. I slept in trains, waiting rooms and once even in a police station with the permission of the inspector because I missed the last bus. The suitcase with the khaki cover shown below too was part of all regular travellers as the cover protected the expensive suitcase.”

The holdall shown above was a long canvass bag with a pouch at each end. One first placed a covered in cotton cover mattress like this in it.
This mattress was tucked into the pouches at both end and then, one end was filled with a pillow while the other was with a bed sheet and/or a blanket. It was then folded over from each end and then folded over once again in the middle, and fastened with buckles and straps on the top.

The holdall contained other pockets to keep other things like clothing or books or whatever and had a handle to carry it with ease.  The pouches on both ends inside were also used to store clothes and other materials below the pillow and the sheet/blanket.

The khaki cloth covered suitcase at the bottom was another familiar sight among regular travellers as, the suitcases were either made with pure or imitation leather and were very expensive. All luggage stores those days had either an in-house tailor or one close by who made the covers on the spot after one bought a suitcase. Believe me, these suitcases were covered because they were expensive and had to be protected to last long.

A tour normally would be of three weeks duration, sometimes taking a few days more on emergency calls.  We depended on the Indian Postal Service for Care-Of-Post Master mails and to receive and send money and mail.  We carried Postal Identity Cards without which we could not use those facilities.  We also had to strictly adhere to the pre-drawn itinerary so that mail could be collected.  One did not use the telephone those days unless in emergencies as calls were expensive.

Almost all the travellers of those days that I knew had the habit of reading and all major Railway Stations had book stalls that sold books and magazines besides daily newspapers.  That and where one could, seeing movies in the local theatres were the only ways to fight loneliness.

In retrospect, when I now compare today’s travellers to those of then, I can’t but wonder how we and I particularly survived those adventures sleeping where we could, using laundry facilities where we could and eating food in all kinds of outlets.

Have you ever used or come across such holdalls and covered suitcases?

Memory And Food.

A facebook post showed this image and asked if the reader had ever had it.
I responded that I had indeed had and would like to have it again if I could lay my hands on some.

Having posted that, I just could not recall the name for the sweet to send for and so posted the image on some WhatsApp pages of local friends and asked for its name and where I could get it.

I got two responses and typically for Pune, one gave me a name popular in the Old City and the other, the name popular among a particular type of vendors. I discovered that the latter is more popular and that it is Goad Kandi Shev.

While I was going through all the above adventure, I also remembered a similar sweet being made at home and again, no matter how hard I tried and googled for it, could not get the name. So, I took the help of WhatsApp again and sent to my sister and a childhood friend who too promptly sent me the name Manogaram. There is a family in Chennai who make many South Indian preparations at home and offer them online and I ordered for two packets of the same which came earlier today.
It is made of different material but my readers should be able to see why I was reminded of it because of its shape.

The Online shop offering this is named Sweet Karam Coffee.  Karam is pronounced Kaaram, and means savoury. Whenever the mood takes me, I get some snacks from them and I recommend them to all my friends too.

Do you have such memory failures on names of food?