Father’s Day 2.

There was a bit of a domestic problem yesterday and we had to outsource home delivered lunch. I was alone at home and was entrusted with the task.

It has been a very long time since I ordered for any food to be delivered at home and the place that I wanted to order from, apparently had closed down a long time ago. The telephone number that I had with me was useless as it had been discontinued.

I therefore had to use an app on my phone to get it but was unable to. Luckily for me, one of my resident geeks, my son, landed up and was able to order and I did not have to starve.

I however had to be at the receiving end of some gentle ribbing for being so clueless and undergo a tutorial about how to order online using an app on my phone. Phew!

Just as the Father’s Day was winding down, I received a cartoon from a friend which cheered me up quite a bit and which I promptly shared with my daughter in love and son who too cracked up.

Somethings Are Not Genetic.

I have no hesitation in accepting that I am a neatnik. I think that it is a virtue.

I use a desk top computer for my blogging, email etc. This involves the use of many cables running behind the screen where the Mac Mini is kept to which they are connected as well as power cables all coiled up.

I decided that I had to do something about this mess and asked Uncle Google for help who suggested that I use a cable organiser.

I promptly ordered for this and have now a neat looking table at the back of the screen.

In organising the cables, I had to take the help of my resident geek, my son and heir, who was cheerfully scornful of the whole exercise.

The organiser package came as a set of two and I offered the spare one to him for his desktop computer and he said that thankfully he has not inherited my OCD!

I suspect that he was referring to my post on a couple of his obsessions!

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 5.

My daughter in love went shopping for vegetables yesterday and saw freshly arrived ground nuts, called peanuts by the Americans, and knowing my weakness for it, bought a pile of it.

I got it steamed in a pressure cooker and sat down to shell them.

That is when nostalgia kicked in taking me back to my childhood when my mother used to ask the four of us siblings to shell the nuts. We used to call that a picnic as, while shelling for storage, we used to keep popping some as we went along. I did not pop any while I shelled because I am still recovering from a tooth extraction but, am looking forward to doing so soon enough from the shelled and refrigerated stock.
Apart from the picnic nostalgia another memory of a late friend kept coming up. That of VB, a dear friend who used to get the snacks for our parties. He used to specially get these boiled groundnuts for me and inevitably say, “Nuts for a nut from a nut!” It has been a long time since I remembered him.
Here is a stock photograph from Alamy showing Indian village children having a picnic like we used to have in our childhood.

How do you like your ground/peanuts?

Phone Box At The Edge Of The World.

After reading my blog post Landline Telephony, my sister Padmini asked me on WhatsApp if I had read the book Phone Box At The Edge Of The World. I responded that I had not and asked her if it was worth reading. She promptly responded with an “Yes.” I value her judgement on literature and promptly bought the book to read on my Kindle device.

I have not been reading fiction except for two of my favourite authors who write Action Books, and this totally different genre came as a big surprise to me.

The book from the very first page grips one and the pace keeps increasing as one progresses. The contents pull just about every string in your emotions as you proceed and in short a totally engrossing book.

As hard to imagine the set up claimed to be real of a non functional phne box in Japan used by people to talk their hearts out, characterisation and descriptions take the reader to a very different place than the normal fiction does.

An Italian writer writing about a Japanese situation adds spice to the experience and the translation into English is admirable for not losing nuances.

If you have not read it, please do. Well worth the expense and the time spent on it.

Six Degrees Of Separation.

All of us know about the famous Six Degrees Of Separation. This idea was proved to me by a series of coincidences.

I received a phone call from a gentleman, let us call him HP from my community. He spoke to me in our common language and syntax to establish his credentials and introduced himself as the cousin of a cousin twice removed from me called TM. HP said that TM had given excellent reference about me to him and that I was sure to be of help to him. I have not heard from TM in decades but was vaguely aware of his existence in Mumbai. HP came straight to the point and asked if he could depend on me to find out some details about a young man from Pune where I live too.

The enquiry was to establish the suitability of the young man as a prospective groom for HP’s daughter. This is not something uncommon in India where arranged marriages are the rule rather than the exception still. I said that I would try my best to find out about the young man given some time and then the discussion took on a different character.

HP wanted to know about my background and when he heard that I had spent most of my working life for a particular company, he was shocked and informed me that he was the cousin of a gent called TR who I had known too, and he wondered how someone like me could have worked in that company. He informed me that TR had been unfairly dismissed from service by the company following which he had died within a few years. I had not known about this as I was not in Mumbai where all this had happened and had already left the company to pursue other interests.

I was however intrigued and called up some old colleagues to get the story and was given the correct story about the dismissal.

The intriguing part of this tale is the degrees of connections that came up in the form of relatives, albeit distant and ex colleagues.

Remarkable isn’t it?