Elevators have of late become quite an integral part of my life. There's nothing unusual about this - since I like millions of others stay in a multi-storey apartment building and my place work is on the top floor of another. This venerable piece of machinery , that automates vertical displacement, controls my access to the outside physical world and enables me to earn my daily bread.
The first 22 years of my life was remarkably elevator free. There were no buildings taller than 3 storeys high in the town I grew up in. Exposure to elevators was through movies like The Towering Inferno. The institute where I studied post high school had one elevator in the main building lobby and was hardly used by students. The building had four floors and we were young and strong enough to ignore the presence of this one elevator.
Slowly as the years have passed, elevators have silently but surely started assuming an increasingly important role in my life. When I started my working life, I shared a chummery in a ten storey residential apartment in suburban Mumbai with 3 other colleagues. When some obscenities were scratched on the elevator walls, I was told that the needle of suspicion pointed towards us bachelors in the chummery. We were quite relieved when a young teenage boy ultimately confessed to have authored the inscriptions.
Elevators have of late also become a laboratory that tests my social skills. Sharing a confined space with acquaintances, familiar faces and strangers does become awkward for me since I am not very good at small talk. What is the best way to handle these brief meeting that lasts till one reaches the destination floor? Should I just greet and smile or do I keep silent? Should I ask the accompanying kid a silly question? Often I end up looking down towards the floor and noticing footwear or I blankly stare at the buttons and the digital displays and pretend to read the safety instructions. These are situations I think where an average American would excel. They usually greet or acknowledge complete strangers (and awkward aliens! ) and can easily start some banter with almost anyone. Indians, and especially people from my native state, are possibly the worst I have seen. Well, there are worse social faux pas that can happen in an elevator - like what Jim Carey's character did in the movie Liar Liar and I am glad I haven't had to face such a situation yet.
Elevators have also started figuring in some technology related conversations I have been having with some of my more geeky colleagues. When we wait for the elevators to stop at our floor, especially during the rush hours in the morning and lunch time, we discover erratic and unexplained behaviour of the gang of elevators. The conversation starts with bugs in software, moves on to real-time system design , formal specifications and more such esoteric topics. The conversation ends when we finally get an entry to the hallowed space.
In the last few weeks I have found myself on multiple occasions using my car key to press the floor buttons instead of touching the thing with my finger. Is a fear of getting some germs or infection working at the back of my mind? Am I protecting the finger which I know will get used subsequently to pick my olfactory organ? Have I inherited some of the traits of my late grandmother? Whatever be the reason, I am also getting a feeling that I should start treating this life supporting machinery with much more respect. Like the business man in G. K. Chesterton's story - The Angry Street , I must acknowledge the machine's role in my life and start treating it more like a human than a metal box with a motor. Lest, after years of indifference and neglect, it decides to become very angry indeed , and start climbing past the top floor, all the way up like the escalator that carried Tom to the golden gates of the Heavenly Express.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Remembering Mamma - my grandmother
(Note to reader: This piece was written on 3rd June 2009, when I was vacationing in Ooty. I am uploading it in this blog today. Hence the term "today" in the post henceforth would mean 3rd June 2009 and not the day of posting)
It is exactly five years ago that Mamma left all of us. Today, as I sit amidst the Nilgiri slopes under a deep blue sky writing this piece, I reflect on the significance of the Ooty connection. Five years back R and I had planned an Ooty vacation that had to be cancelled because of on an urgent business trip to US that couldn't be avoided. It was during my flight to Chicago that Mamma breathed her last. She had been suffering for a while and she had died in her sleep. She was my last surviving grandparent - others having passed away when I was a child.
My earliest memories of Mamma is of when we - my parents, sister and I - used to visit my grandparents in Kolkata. My grandfather - Dadu - was still alive then and I must have been less than five. Dadu was old and he used to suffer from a persistent cough - a legacy of multiple bouts of pneumonia that had afflicted him. Mamma being much younger than Dadu was stronger then. Though she suffered from acute arthritic pain at times, she was quite active in those days. She ruled the kitchen - she was a a fairly good cook. However she was finicky about cleanliness and hygiene - which to our exasperation she used to take to extremes. Puja and cooking took most of her time and energy - and she was either cooking, cleaning or at Puja. She was quite particular about what could be left to servants and what had to be done by her personally. Those days there was no dining table used in the kitchen and we used to sit on wooden seats called Piris laid on the floor and were served food on heavy brass utensils. Mamma made sure we didn't spill food on the Piri and that we held our glass of water with our right hands. These were rules necessitated by her laws of cleanliness.
Mamma had no teeth - having lost all of them to extractions at the dentist. That made her look quite different from her photographs taken at a younger age. In fact I had never seen Mamma with any teeth. I wonder how she used to have her meals - typically rice in the afternoons and milk and rotis at night. One thing she indulged in was Paan. She used to have one after each meal. The Paan had to be pounded into a smooth paste in a mortal-pestle and she would scoop the paste and put it in her toothless mouth with great relish. I used to look forward to do the grinding of the Paan and whenever I was around, she would allow me to make the paste for her. Mamma never went anywhere without her Paan box and the mortar-pestle.
During our visits to Kolkata - sleeping arrangement had to be made for all - and it used to be such that I had to sleep in her bed. As mentioned earlier, Mamma suffered from arthritic pain in her joints, and she used to love when I massaged her fingers and arms. Mamma used to have a hot water bag with her in bed - which gave her comfort. Mamma was an early riser and after waking us she used to start singing devotional songs which used to wake me up as well.
After Dadu died, she came to stay with us in Bokaro and spent about six months with us. During that time she still used to cook - though purely vegetarian stuff - now that she was a widow. Mamma used to love watching movies and she would always accompany us to the Bokaro Club on movie days. She would wear starched white saris and applied a lot of powder on her face. She had a mole on her back - that would peep from above her blouse , I used to love just twiddling and twirling it with my fingers. She was quite indulgent about this.
Mamma eventually went back to Kolkata . My uncle rebuilt the house and Mamma retired from the kitchen and spent almost all her time in her room in the new house. My aunt used to take care of most of her needs and she spent her days in Puja and cleaning Puja related artifacts. The floor in her room was always wet from her constant cleaning and mopping. She would start her Puja in mid morning and it used to go on till late afternoon - post which she used to have her afternoon meal - really really late.
After retirement, my father built a house on the rear side of the plot in Kolkata and Mamma moved in with my parents. Her arthritis had worsened and eysight was bad. She was also quite bent now - from the constant bending posture she had from her Pujas and cleaning. She had stopped reading because of failing eyesight and she would listen to her radio a lot. She had also developed a habit of collecting odd things, rags and various food stuff that she kept in her room. My mother managed her quite well, though my father did get very angry with her at times. Mamma became totally dependant on my mother for all her needs and my mother took very good care of her. As she grew older, she was more and more confined in her room. Later when R & I visited my parents, she would welcome us with huge toothless smile. On my birthdays she would give me a princely amount of Rs 10 or so as a birthday present.
Mamma used to call me Visha Kavi - or world poet - since I was born on Tagore's Birth Anniversary day. I suppose she was much more of a poet than I can ever be. In her younger days, she had written a complete Shayama Sangeet in the middle of night after waking up from a nightmare. She had dreamt that my father was being kidnapped by dacoits and then in her dream she sang this song in praise of Kali. She remembered that song and she wrote it down in lantern light.
That's what Mamma was....
It is exactly five years ago that Mamma left all of us. Today, as I sit amidst the Nilgiri slopes under a deep blue sky writing this piece, I reflect on the significance of the Ooty connection. Five years back R and I had planned an Ooty vacation that had to be cancelled because of on an urgent business trip to US that couldn't be avoided. It was during my flight to Chicago that Mamma breathed her last. She had been suffering for a while and she had died in her sleep. She was my last surviving grandparent - others having passed away when I was a child.
My earliest memories of Mamma is of when we - my parents, sister and I - used to visit my grandparents in Kolkata. My grandfather - Dadu - was still alive then and I must have been less than five. Dadu was old and he used to suffer from a persistent cough - a legacy of multiple bouts of pneumonia that had afflicted him. Mamma being much younger than Dadu was stronger then. Though she suffered from acute arthritic pain at times, she was quite active in those days. She ruled the kitchen - she was a a fairly good cook. However she was finicky about cleanliness and hygiene - which to our exasperation she used to take to extremes. Puja and cooking took most of her time and energy - and she was either cooking, cleaning or at Puja. She was quite particular about what could be left to servants and what had to be done by her personally. Those days there was no dining table used in the kitchen and we used to sit on wooden seats called Piris laid on the floor and were served food on heavy brass utensils. Mamma made sure we didn't spill food on the Piri and that we held our glass of water with our right hands. These were rules necessitated by her laws of cleanliness.
Mamma had no teeth - having lost all of them to extractions at the dentist. That made her look quite different from her photographs taken at a younger age. In fact I had never seen Mamma with any teeth. I wonder how she used to have her meals - typically rice in the afternoons and milk and rotis at night. One thing she indulged in was Paan. She used to have one after each meal. The Paan had to be pounded into a smooth paste in a mortal-pestle and she would scoop the paste and put it in her toothless mouth with great relish. I used to look forward to do the grinding of the Paan and whenever I was around, she would allow me to make the paste for her. Mamma never went anywhere without her Paan box and the mortar-pestle.
During our visits to Kolkata - sleeping arrangement had to be made for all - and it used to be such that I had to sleep in her bed. As mentioned earlier, Mamma suffered from arthritic pain in her joints, and she used to love when I massaged her fingers and arms. Mamma used to have a hot water bag with her in bed - which gave her comfort. Mamma was an early riser and after waking us she used to start singing devotional songs which used to wake me up as well.
After Dadu died, she came to stay with us in Bokaro and spent about six months with us. During that time she still used to cook - though purely vegetarian stuff - now that she was a widow. Mamma used to love watching movies and she would always accompany us to the Bokaro Club on movie days. She would wear starched white saris and applied a lot of powder on her face. She had a mole on her back - that would peep from above her blouse , I used to love just twiddling and twirling it with my fingers. She was quite indulgent about this.
Mamma eventually went back to Kolkata . My uncle rebuilt the house and Mamma retired from the kitchen and spent almost all her time in her room in the new house. My aunt used to take care of most of her needs and she spent her days in Puja and cleaning Puja related artifacts. The floor in her room was always wet from her constant cleaning and mopping. She would start her Puja in mid morning and it used to go on till late afternoon - post which she used to have her afternoon meal - really really late.
After retirement, my father built a house on the rear side of the plot in Kolkata and Mamma moved in with my parents. Her arthritis had worsened and eysight was bad. She was also quite bent now - from the constant bending posture she had from her Pujas and cleaning. She had stopped reading because of failing eyesight and she would listen to her radio a lot. She had also developed a habit of collecting odd things, rags and various food stuff that she kept in her room. My mother managed her quite well, though my father did get very angry with her at times. Mamma became totally dependant on my mother for all her needs and my mother took very good care of her. As she grew older, she was more and more confined in her room. Later when R & I visited my parents, she would welcome us with huge toothless smile. On my birthdays she would give me a princely amount of Rs 10 or so as a birthday present.
Mamma used to call me Visha Kavi - or world poet - since I was born on Tagore's Birth Anniversary day. I suppose she was much more of a poet than I can ever be. In her younger days, she had written a complete Shayama Sangeet in the middle of night after waking up from a nightmare. She had dreamt that my father was being kidnapped by dacoits and then in her dream she sang this song in praise of Kali. She remembered that song and she wrote it down in lantern light.
That's what Mamma was....
The Breakfast Buffet
The Breakfast Buffet is indeed turning out to be one of the most interesting, entertaining and edifying aspect of my vacations lately. Keeping aside the fact that it provides nourishment, sustenance and necessary fuel for the rest of the morning - and in some cases till late afternoon, how I have come to realize the above mentioned benefits is what I shall endeavour to explain in what follows.
As it turns out most of our vacations ( i.e. R and mine ) have breakfast included as part of the tariff. We do not happen to be of the adventurous back-packing type of travellers - our vacation destinations so far have been limited to popular tourist destinations or large metro cities. We book our holidays on the Internet or through well known travel and tour operators. Almost always, we stay in hotels and resorts where breakfast is served in large lobbies or coffee shops.
I would claim that breakfast is the best time of the day to get acquainted with fellow guests and hotel staff. My guess is that in typical vacations destinations a majority of the guests in the hotel also do land up for the breakfast buffet. Breakfast time is also when the restaurant / coffee shop is most crowded since most folks have their other meals as per their plans and convenience. Over the period of your stay you get to know about complete strangers and their families. You get to catch bits and pieces of their conversation, you start guessing their nationalities or states / cities where they have come from , their profession etc. Over the period of stay , as you keep meeting them at breakfast each day , the familiarity grows. Quite often you run into them again in the actual tourist hot spots, shopping areas etc. and you get to know even more about them.
In addition, if you do happen to be a keen observer, you would also start noticing food habits and what kind of food other guests stack on their plates. There are those slim and fit types - folks who partake just fruits and cereal. Then you have the coffee, croissants and juice only types - these are bony , angular types - possibly heavy smokers who do not care much about breakfast. Then you have the large beefy families. whose kids pile on huge mounds of protein stuff on their plates. The other side of the spectrum consist of Desi vegetarians - people who are in constant suspicion of the contents of the dishes and therefore tend to focus more on the breads, juices and fruits. Indeed a great way to know about people and cultures ! And that's not all - the buffet teaches you to be patient. This happens at the so called 'Live Counter' where the staff prepare eggs, dosas etc. to order. These counters are quite popular and if you too are one who would like your stuff hot off the skillet, you need to have patience as one of your virtues.
The Breakfast Buffet also challenges the best management brains since it poses a complex optimization problem with respect to the following: What is the optimum choice of items and corresponding quantity that one should stack on ones plate. On one hand you have already paid for the breakfast as part of your tariff, then you also need to consider that you need nourishment till your next meal, and you also need to watch your calories, fat, cholesterol etc., and at any point of time choice must also be governed by the state of your digestion and availability of and access to rest rooms later during the day. The skills honed at the breakfast lobby can be gainfully utilized in business and commerce.
For the more technically inclined, there is one more challenge in addition to the above mentioned optimization problem. It goes like this: When you are early to the buffet, and there are lots of empty tables to choose from, you need to do a visual survey of the spread and solve the above optimization problem first and then solve the "Travelling Salesman" problem that will help in selecting a table that minimizes the total distance you need to walk to load your plate.
Need I say more? Here is a piece of advice from from one who has now reached middle age - Never miss out the Breakfast Buffet !
As it turns out most of our vacations ( i.e. R and mine ) have breakfast included as part of the tariff. We do not happen to be of the adventurous back-packing type of travellers - our vacation destinations so far have been limited to popular tourist destinations or large metro cities. We book our holidays on the Internet or through well known travel and tour operators. Almost always, we stay in hotels and resorts where breakfast is served in large lobbies or coffee shops.
I would claim that breakfast is the best time of the day to get acquainted with fellow guests and hotel staff. My guess is that in typical vacations destinations a majority of the guests in the hotel also do land up for the breakfast buffet. Breakfast time is also when the restaurant / coffee shop is most crowded since most folks have their other meals as per their plans and convenience. Over the period of your stay you get to know about complete strangers and their families. You get to catch bits and pieces of their conversation, you start guessing their nationalities or states / cities where they have come from , their profession etc. Over the period of stay , as you keep meeting them at breakfast each day , the familiarity grows. Quite often you run into them again in the actual tourist hot spots, shopping areas etc. and you get to know even more about them.
In addition, if you do happen to be a keen observer, you would also start noticing food habits and what kind of food other guests stack on their plates. There are those slim and fit types - folks who partake just fruits and cereal. Then you have the coffee, croissants and juice only types - these are bony , angular types - possibly heavy smokers who do not care much about breakfast. Then you have the large beefy families. whose kids pile on huge mounds of protein stuff on their plates. The other side of the spectrum consist of Desi vegetarians - people who are in constant suspicion of the contents of the dishes and therefore tend to focus more on the breads, juices and fruits. Indeed a great way to know about people and cultures ! And that's not all - the buffet teaches you to be patient. This happens at the so called 'Live Counter' where the staff prepare eggs, dosas etc. to order. These counters are quite popular and if you too are one who would like your stuff hot off the skillet, you need to have patience as one of your virtues.
The Breakfast Buffet also challenges the best management brains since it poses a complex optimization problem with respect to the following: What is the optimum choice of items and corresponding quantity that one should stack on ones plate. On one hand you have already paid for the breakfast as part of your tariff, then you also need to consider that you need nourishment till your next meal, and you also need to watch your calories, fat, cholesterol etc., and at any point of time choice must also be governed by the state of your digestion and availability of and access to rest rooms later during the day. The skills honed at the breakfast lobby can be gainfully utilized in business and commerce.
For the more technically inclined, there is one more challenge in addition to the above mentioned optimization problem. It goes like this: When you are early to the buffet, and there are lots of empty tables to choose from, you need to do a visual survey of the spread and solve the above optimization problem first and then solve the "Travelling Salesman" problem that will help in selecting a table that minimizes the total distance you need to walk to load your plate.
Need I say more? Here is a piece of advice from from one who has now reached middle age - Never miss out the Breakfast Buffet !
About this blog
Over the course of last few weeks I decided that I needed a blog which would be a repository of my musings from time to time. I have another blog in blogosphere which had started on a pretentious note - claiming to record my thoughts on technology, innovation, economy and what not. Over a period of time, I realized that I was kind of writing more on simpler things - my experiences in day to day life, my personal fancies, things that excite me etc etc.. I needed to have a new blog for such content and hence this blog.
I don't know how many readers will ever read this one. R may probably be the only reader for most of these posts. I will probably send links to these posts to some folks from time to time.
If you do happen to stumble upon this by any chance - read on !
I don't know how many readers will ever read this one. R may probably be the only reader for most of these posts. I will probably send links to these posts to some folks from time to time.
If you do happen to stumble upon this by any chance - read on !
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