Jenny and the girl at the bar

Just as you hit Walnut street after rounding the Rittenhouse square , you will see the huge Radisson Plaza , Warwik . It has a strange darkish grey colour , something that hotels in India would instinctively abhor . But the manner in which the hotel stands out on the street with its flags arching over the road and the central US flag proudly displayed , the colour adds magnificiently to its grandeur . The entire edifice looks rock solid and seems to have been carved out of one single stone .
The concierge pulled out the bags from the car and lugged them in . Me and Gautam walked upto the counter to check in . A middle aged man at the front desk was checking guests in . This guy’s badge read ‘John . ’
‘You have reservations , gentlemen ?’
The first striking thing is that everyone stands in a queue . And there is only one person at a time at the counter . This is impossible in India . At hotel desks , we abdicate politeness and instead of queueing up , gesticulate and growl so as the get the attention of the receptionists on the other side of the desk . I was amazed .
After a good quarter of an hour , our turn came . We thrust the fax acceptance of our reservation done from India on the table . he smiled , punched keys , looked up some printed sheets , called up his boss and gave us a smile .
‘ Reservation for one day only ‘
‘Actually we have reservations for 4 days . You see we booked three days first , then we pre-extended it by another day . So its from the 19th Sep which is what this confirmation from your hotel says . And this is from 20th to the 22nd Sep as this sheet says ,’ Gautam clarified
‘ You see , Sir , you’ll have to check out after the 1st day and re-check in again as per how you have received confirmations ‘
‘Excuse me , we have three plus one four days , we should we check out and check in again ?
‘You need to as you have a break-in reservation ‘
‘ Can we speak to your manager ?’
A smartly dressed black manager walked in from the door behind the front desk .
‘Hi , I am John ‘
Gautam explained the need .
John was efficient . he checked all the faxes . Called up a number and double-checked the confirmation number .
‘ You shall have your room , Sir , in a minute ‘
He left instructions for continous booking for four days , smiled and vanished in the back door .
One John to the rescue of another John . John rescues John . Black rescues White . Smart rescues Dumb . Pretty poetic , it occurred to me .
I looked at this John . Dumb is the word. That’s the other thing about these guys . They are dumb . Be it the front desk girls at Holiday Inn New Jersey , the woman at the las vegas motel , the restaurant owner in Washington , the Minneapolis woman who next to me on the flight to san Francisco , the cop at Amtrack’s 30th street station ,the dude at the ING shop on Locust street , the smart guy behind the desk at Borders bookstore or this John . Dumb .All of them .
The sudokus they do here defined as ‘difficult ’ are being done back home by ten year old kids as easy . No wonder , the universities are full of our guys teaching physics and maths . We got in the room . Smaller than the ones that hotels in India have , but well kept just as well . There’s not much room service , just self – service .
‘Let’s grab a Sprite ’ , I said . Me types get drunk on Sprite . I like the tagline too , Sprite bujhayee sirf pyaas , baaki sab bakwaas . Or the new repositioning one ‘ All taste , no gyaan ‘
I walked to the seventh floor bay . There was a stack of newspapers .
‘Hurricane Rita type 2 ‘, the headline of USA today screamed .
‘Hitting Florida on Thursday ‘ , was the byline. There was a photograph of thousands of people lining up some international border , miles of trucks . There were half a million residents who would be affected and they needed to be evacuated . New Orleans had highlighted the poor response of the govt to Hurricane Katrina , and so it needed to do something fast . Evacuate was a smart move . Dumb move .
The coke machine was imposing . At about 180 cms, it was a tad taller than me . The ones outside Walmart at the Waterfront were even bigger .
A one dollar coin popped out the sprite 300ml bottle . It tasted sweeter than the Sprite in India . Had it been a long time or was it just a feeling ? Couldn’t say for sure . But , sweeter , it sure was . Whatever happened to the branding philosophy of constancy . Wherever in the world you are , a can of coke tastes the same ?
Aah , was robbed of even this feeling of familiarity in this land of the free .

Outside the Radisson , there’s activity . A quaint little street full of all kinds of vehicles , Hummers , Cabs , Pickup trucks et al establishes that there can’t be a dearth of action in Philadelphia . To the west is the Schuylkill River ,beyond which is the University City district with the Wharton School . There’s hardly any green in the city center , just concrete blocks , each of which look alike . Most of the large buildings are basic in their demeanour , lacks the architectural splendour of some of the historical monuments . And south of Walnut street , there are rows and rows of red brick houses and cobble stoned alleys .

The best thing after walking around in Manhattan is walking in Philadelphia . The lanes are clean as if swept a couple of minutes back . There are not too many people jostling for space . Noone spits around or relieves at unnoticed corners , like good old Mumbai . Surely that’s got to do with the population . Imagine Philadelphia’s 1.5 million people are a tenth of Mumbai’s populace , more like Indore back home . But there’s the rub . Philadelhia is seeped in history , has tremendous class and is a beautiful city to live in . It has hometown charm and big city excitement . Indore’s 1.5 million people have much less . It’s the city of neighbourhoods . From Cheshnut street , just after the 5th street , I walked around across to the Independence hall , the birthplace of the United states as a big polished billboard announced . The independence national historic park has a huge bell called the Liberty bell , presumably signifying the end of the civil war and the birth of the new nation state . A couple of blocks away , there’s the house where Benjamin Franklin stayed
I bought a days pass for unlimited travel on the South Pennsylvania’s transportation authority for $5.50 , thought it to be much more convenient that the constant single one way fare of $2 each time you need to jump a couple of streets . We were curious to see Wal Mart . So we reached the Waterfront district where many years ago , Penn had landed. Wal-mart was good , big and massive in its assembly of products and its price points . Everything under the sun was being retailed . From boats to beyblades . Indian retailing is catching up . There’s this place called Magnet in Mumbai , which is exactly the size of this Walmart and there Giant in Bangalore which is probably bigger . Massive discount stores are getting into India like noones business .
India is a nation of retailers , as any sane researcher worth his questionnaire or focus group will tell you . Mom and pop stores are run like big businesses in india . Even the ones in New York are run by Indians . In a couple of years , am sure we could teach Sam Walton a couple of lessons or two on retailing . Many years back , I had met Kishore Biyani in a Pantaloons store on CG road in Ahmedabad pedling his pant pieces . He had two brands Bare denim and pantaloons . I bought a pantaloon trouser , then . Little did I know that he would become the Rajah of retail over the next couple of years . He owns and operates India’s biggest and most successful retail story , Big bazaar . In addition , he has added Food bazaar , Pantaloons and a presence in 10 towns that have a million plus residents . He listed in the stock exchanges in may 2005 and has seen his stock price climb 125% over 7 months . My ICICI Big bazaar credit card helps me get a 5% off on eachof the bills we run up there . But his stores don’t add up to the size of Wal-mart , just yet . Another year or two probably . Magnet has its size today and maybe it will be the next Wal-mart .

Even as you arrive at the airport , you step into history . Philadelphia international airport has huge paintings , scribble boards and collages of words , speeches and signatures of the declaration of independence . It strikes you just as much as the massive collection on large size paintings in San francisco international airport .

Around eight pm , the bigger cars are out on the roads . A limousine pulls away from the hotels kerb . A lexus drives in with a big , burly white guy clutching a black girl in jeans and an abstract top . They walk into the lobby and into the elevator . We wait a couple of more minutes , taking in the environment . There’s a slight nip in the air . A kind of cold chilly breeze . As we begin walking towards the bar , we pass a theatre . There are over a hundred people dressed in coattails and shining shoes accompanied by magnificiently decked women with long flowery gowns walking into one of the theatres .
We turn left towards locust street for the bar. We don’t ask anyone lest we be followed .
We stepped in to Signature gentleman’s Bar with a little restraint . A young girl emerged from behind the desk , “ $5 a head ‘ , she said
We pulled out monies are gave her .
She signaled us to a door on the side .
We walked through a dark corridor and emerged into a dimly lit room . It had a central platform that held a large oiled pole in its centre ; with a semi-circular bar desk around it with high stools . A lot of business types were sitting on the stools .There was a gang of five young boys and girls , probably in the early twenties sitting in the centre , downing drinks merrily and make a lot of noise . there was also a couple sitting on a side . There were two black bouncers guarding the doorway behind . We occupied two stools next to the executives as we felt safer , I guess.
Suddenly , the music changed .
And onto the central platform jumped a girl in a black trouser and a flowing black robe . She had good clear skin and was reasonably tall . She took to the pole with fervor swinging around .Then , she paused , caressed her breasts and drove her hand between her legs .She repeated this a couple of times going round the pole .
With a deft stroke, she yanked her top to reveal a black brassiere . It was an amazing contrast , her flawless white skin and her black clothing . And very exciting .
As she perfomed her act , a young girl with huge breasts tucked in a tight white shirt , so you could see her pebble like nipples ,and a short skirt came up from behind and said , ‘ ‘What would you have , sir ?’
Man , didn’t it sound like ‘ Coffee , tea or me ?‘
A sprite ‘ I said . Good ol’ Sprite . All taste , No gyaan .Didn’t look like I would be needing any gyaan for a long time now .
As she left I looked back to find that the girl had come onto the bar desk and was unzipping her trouser as a big tease . The gang of boys and girls was shouting a countdown . She wriggled out of the trouser to reveal a set of beautiful ivory legs . What a sight . Now , there was aggression in her dance . She climbed up the pole , and hung upside down caressing her body slowly as the music slowed down . In an ultimate act of seduction , she undid her brassiere to reveal to beautiful, well carved breasts .
‘Your Sprite ‘ sir ‘ said the bar maid .
I was too engrossed to notice .
As she did her act with only a small thin garment covering her between her legs , the crowd was ecstatic . She climbed down from the platform and came up the bar desk where we were sitting . She walked on all fours round the table . As she did that , people inserted one dollar bills in the string that precariouslt held the loincloth. Soon , she was very close to where I was sitting . She looked seductively at me . Her gaze and smile stayed at me for a full couple of minutes . It was a good feeling Her brilliant breasts dangling down like low hanging  fruit . She knelt down and fondled her breasts . Soft , bountiful and lovely . Then she signaled to her undergarment string . I pulled out a five dollar bill , folded and pushed it in . Soon , she was done and went back to the platform , climbing one pole instantly . She stretched her legs up the pole and licked her thighs . The crowd shouted orgasmically . They wanted her to be out of the last garment .The feeling of exhilaration in the crowd heightened .
And then she untied the strings of her last undergarment , looking at each person around the table and laughing out loud .
As the garment dropped , I died and went to heaven .



Just on the corner of Radisson , is Pete’s . A small 10-12 seater café . That’s where Jennifer serves breakfast . Jenny , as she would like to be called .
Early at seven am , the café opens for breakfast . Scrambled / poached eggs – two , toasts -2 , tea or coffee , small glass of fruit juice and a baked , mashed potato slice for two dollars and ninety five cents . This became my breakfast daily after my first bad day at Mc Donalds where a four dollar breakfast added a lot of trash into my system early in the day .
Jenny was an amazing girl . She would have been in the mid-twenties , slightly plumpish around the middle , but very athletic as I would soon find out .
I sat down around the ten stool horse-shoe table .
‘What would you have , sir ?’ she said pulling out a small scribbling pad from her apron string and a pencil from behind our ear . All in a jiffy .
‘Ill have your standard breakfast with black coffee ‘
‘juice ?’
‘Orange ‘
‘Eggs ‘
‘Scrambled ‘
She moved on .
In a minute , she put the request through her kitchen . Another helper gave her a bucket full of washed plates . Two business executives , dressed impeccably walked in . She took their orders even before they could settle down . She put four toasts into the toaster . My coffee came first . She thrust it in front of me . A women wanted to add more salt . Jenny fetched the salt swinging from where she was sitting to where the salt was . She adjusted the freshly washed plates . The black gentleman sitting on my left paid up and left . Jenny cleared the table instantly .My Scrambled egg plate arrived at the counter where she received orders from the kitchen . She picked it up and passed it to me . The coffee for the executives arrived . She gave it to them . The toasts popped . She reached for them and distributed them . I got two . The other two waited for two more to be given to the execs .I finished my meal in fifteen minutes .She pulled out her scribbling pad and handed me a bill . I put a five dollar bill on the bill plate and left . I felt like tipping her really well . Am sure two dollars on a three dollar bill is a great tip.
Not that I haven’t seen speedy service , udupi restaurants back home serve faster , make you eat faster . But this is amazing . Jenny’s co-ordination is untiring and you can watch her in action . She does not rest . She is like an efficient well oiled machine delivering one product after another effortlessly .
I tipped her everyday till something snapped on Sunday .
On Sunday , breakfast is five dollars . This is true-blue America . Dynamic pricing principles at work . Two dollars and ninety five cents across the week and four dollars and ninety five cents on weekends for the same breakfast .
I didn’t expect a change of rates , so was surprised at the bill . I looked around , the board did show the weekend price . I guess , just visiting it everyday , we overlooked the differential weekend price .
Well , Jenny missed her tip that day .
I

Signature , the gentleman’s bar on Locust street , follows the same .
Five dollars a head for the week and ten dollars a head for weekend .
Double the charge for the same pair of tits .
And this is the land of justice !

We crossed the Delaware river to reach Camden waterfront’s Adventure aquarium . The cabbie had said that we could go around over the Benjamin Franklin bridge and then come through Mickle boulevard , but we thought the ferry ride would be good . We reached Penn’s landing and took the ferry . Six dollars a head for a return ticket . On the other side , the aquarium had a twenty dollar entry . It’ s one of the best aquariums that one sees . Large fish , neatly kept . Clean water . For a two hundred dollar ticket , you could swim with the sharks . The brochure says they are well –fed and not hungry when you get in to swim with them . But , hell , who knows their apetite . The remarkable thing is that someone thought of something like this . Imagine taking away an experience of a lifetime .

Walking back from the Penns Landing towards our hotel , we took the Walnut street and decided to leg it up . We crossed the Carpenters hall and the Tomb of the unknown soldier . A little further down is this old bookstore that had an outstanding collection of very old books . The Massive collections of Limericks caught my attention . Don’t get them in Mumbai anymore , so I picked all three of them up .

There once was a Dentist named Stone
Who saw his patients alone ,
In a fit of depravity
He filled the wrong cavity ,
And my, how his practice has grown !


In the shade of the old apple tree
I got all that was coming to me
In the soft dewy grass
I had a fine piece of ass
From a maiden that was fine to see .

“My back aches . My penis is sore.
I simply can’t fuck any more .
I’m dripping with sweat;
And you haven’t come yet ;
And my God ! it’s a quarter to four !


Amtracks 30th street station connects to the east coast districts and we landed there as we head towards Washington . The station is huge , has a majestic lobby that has absolutely clean bookstores , restaurants , coffee bars and the like . There is a central enquiry hub and a set of ticketing cabins alongside the walls . A step of stairs leads to the train system below . The experiences started getting similar . There was a small queue for everything . You couldn’t get into the Amtracks’ train system before a certain whistle that one of the two officers in blue uniforms would blow . Ticket queues are the same as the ones at Radisson . One at a time . You need an ID card , a passport to buy them. There is a big rack full of brochures in each station detailing everything that a tourist can see or do . There ‘s a large map of the tracks with train numbers that help one choose times and trains .

Seven fifteen on a warm Saturday morning , we were headed to Washington .

Can't talk in Kolkatta

I lost my voice last night . No , not in a romantic sort of way , as in , oogled at some pretty young things and when someone returned my glaze , I lost my voice . No, it was a real loss . My throat turned on the heat with an amazing surge of irritation , I was gasping for words as a part of my usual un-baritonish request asking for warm milk to go with my cornflakes to the orange-uniformed waiter at the Park when all that came out was a husky , zero decibel , flat “ Can I have some warm milk , please ? “
Disbelief at my own voice , I repeated the line again .
Similar effect .
Animatedly , I explained , pointing to the bowl of cornflakes .
“ Hot milk “ .
He smiled . His silver , polished name plate pinned to his pocket said ‘Peter’ . Peter was either embarrassed or he found it amusing that a huge 200 pound smartly dressed executive should have a voice like a 100 pound serial killer uttering parting notes to his victim .
I let Peter be .

Have just finished day two of the training thankfully , so my loss of voice doesn’t impact the lives & careers of these bunch of radio sales guys in Kolkatta .
And it can only happen in Kolkatta .

I sms’ed my sales manager to organize a doc . ENT specialist .The best , I said . Want to get rid of this today so I can show Peter my true vocal-identity .

Soumen Roy , son of one of Kolkatta’ s established bureaucratic family and my sales manager whose career can just take a great upswing if my throat clears , organized the best . Wockhardt clinics , in the lane under the flyover on the other side of Camac street . Owned by Leander Paes’s father .

We walked in to meet Dr. Chatterjee at the hospital . There were three women at a series of desks who looked at us in amazement . It seemed that Dr.Chaterjee didn’t see patients so early in the morning and I was the exception . Soumen Roy had got his dad to call Doc up and he was returning some old favour .
His secretary was a typical short Bengali women . The tighness of her clothes amazed me . I mean , how does one get into such a dress ? Body hugging clothes look good on a full , well endowed women . But this was a skinny girl in the late twenties without much of bust or bums . And the dress made her look strange . Different . Funny .
Dr. Chatterjee was a smartly dressed , suited & booted guy . Must say , they treat patients differently in Kolkatta . I mean Docs in Mumbai are curt and stick to the point . No humour , Deadpan professionals , they get rid of you in minutes . Here , there’s a lot of leisure in the method . There are pauses , theorizing and detailed explanations of the ailment . And dashes of humor .
“ So , you lost your voice ‘
‘Yup ‘
‘Since when ‘
‘Last night ‘
‘You are from Kolkatta ?
‘Nope , Mumbai ‘
‘Travel a lot ?‘
‘Lot ‘
‘Smoke ?’
‘No’
‘Drink ?’
‘No’
‘Tobacco ?’
‘No’
‘Come this side .. Open .. Say Aah !’
‘Aaah’
‘Stick you toungue ..Say Aah !’
‘Aaah’
‘How old are you ?’
’37 ‘
‘Acidity ?’
‘Nope’
‘Blood pressure ?’
‘Nope’
‘Any other ailments ?’
Nope ‘
‘Sleep Well ?’
‘Yup ‘
‘Had something cold ?’
‘Nope’
‘Had something very hot ?’
‘Nope’
‘Past instances of such a thing ?’
‘Nope , just a little stray cough some days back ‘
‘Any irritation while swallowing ‘
‘Nope’
‘Oily food ?’
‘Nope’


Dr. Chatterjee looked at me intensely and smiled .
‘ Bloody hell . If you don’t smoke , drink , chew tobacco and have no ailments , yet have a throat infection , you might as well do all of those & enjoy life ! Whatsay ?’
I smiled .
‘ In jail without committing a crime !’
I smiled again .
‘ You have acute laryngsitis and it is in the danger of becoming chronic .The inflammation has surrounded one side of your larynx . ‘
I pulled in my lips and attempted a smile .
He drew out what was probably my larynx and pointed the pen to the left side .
’ …if this persists , it can become chronic ‘
‘ Only one prescription – don’t talk for 7 days ‘
I opened my eyes wide !
‘Yeah , no talking , no gargling , no coughing , no stressing your larynx ‘
‘Awright, Doc ‘

He pulled out a longish sheet with a heavy masthead . Lots of specialists with lots of specializations covered up the top half of the hospital’s letter head .
And I witnessed for the first time in my life a doctor with brilliant calligraphy . With lavish strokes , he wrote out the diagnosis and the prescription .
I thanked him and left .

Hit work at 1130am .
Not bad since , as they say communistic , socialistic , poor , outpost Kolkatta with no resident middle-class gets to work at 1100 am even though the sun rises here at 0445 , an hour before Mumbai .

The Porcelain set

The Porcelain Set

There were seventeen of us . All a great motley crowd of potential engineers , staying together . Today , as I think of those times , Bhagyanagar seems to have been an appropriate name for the hostel . For , as it turns out , it did prove to be Destiny’s playground .

The eight room bungalow was chosen by the college so as to accommodate people till the additional college campus hostels were ready . And one of the first guys to get in was of course , Atul Naigaonkar . Son of a banker , he came with all conservative trappings that one could come across – including high powered spectacles , carefully oiled and parted hair , a constant need to just sit , do nothing and perennially with an Instrumental Engineering book in one hand . The great white skin he had was always the subject of much speculation . How could an Indian have such skin ? - was the prominent query on lips of everyone including Gautam Bargale , the country bumpkin from Kolhapur – Bargi to all of us . Not only was Bargi , Naigaonkar’s classmate , but was also his bete noire .
‘I think the Portuguese did these women on the coasts . And left their colours on the children ‘ , Bargi would constantly remind everyone . Naigaonkar would , of course , furiously object to this . But Bargi , a man of few opinions , had a strange and outstanding funny bone which constantly entertained .He also couldn’t do without his full glass of milk in the morning . I remember the day when once Bargi got up late – Hiten Dalal , the Mulund lad ,was always the first to get up - and found his glass of milk missing . There was a furore , and the next day , the rest of the gang went without milk . Bargi drank everyone’s share up .
Life , couldn’t be rushed for Hiten , though one would wonder why he got up so early . He would laze around . Walk on the terrace , adjusting his spectacles , pretending to be scholarly . He didn’t know how to ride a bike nor did he know to clench a fist and punch . Probably his two sisters unwittingly carved his feminine mannerisms . Yet , he was the first amongst us to date a woman . Guess whatever he was made of , it was working , for once .


These three were classmates in the third year . Their senior was Prashant Ghosh . He was a complete muscleman – with his muscles bulging much more than Bargi’s would like his to bulge . Both , though , helped each other with the weights on the terrace . The first hour every morning was always these two huffing and puffing .
In the Electronics stream were Manjit Singh , the only surd in the lot , and Ajay Maheswary , another Banker’s son . Manjit was the surd’s surd . A great pleasure to have around and the anchor of many conversations . He had a measured stroll and unlike a typical Punjabi , was not loud enough – probably his Brigadier Dad had tempered him , or probably we had ! His pal , Ajay Maheshwary – we used to call him Marwari- and I understand now why so . Quite oblivious was I of such distinctions then.
Maheswary came with Colonial leanings – if it can be called that . His Dad headed the Bank of India ‘s Western Region and he was used to big cars , chaffeurs , lunch prepared specially for him - not in a common kitchen and the like . Suited Manjit and him fine that they shared their room . Business , I tell you , he had running in his blood . In fact , in the college annual gathering , I helped him organize the soft drinks counter . We went into the city , bought out 20 crates of Coke from the distributor and sold with a thirty percent margin . Wow ! was all I would say . From thought to finish , it was Maheswary’s idea . It seems to be a ridiculously simple concept now . Someone tells me now , marwaris make the country’s best retailers . I know how .
The quietest of them was Vipul Amin ; Tullu ,as we would call him and for good reason . He was from some corner in Karnataka , apparently where there is no written script for his language Tullu . Very sparse conversationalist . Highly intelligent and non-interferring types . He had the perfect sense of humour and was handy during evening discussions .
Then there was Suhas Dubey . The grassroots champ . Wouldn’t converse in English – Angrezon ka muh me liya tha kya - he would say to all our English banter . He was the man of the masses . Loved by all . He had a funny line for all occasions . The bumpkin of all bumpkins . I remember his corner room full of Samantha Fox and Brooke Shields semi-clad posters . Once , when his father came visiting , we tried explaining him to redo his room , with no results . ‘Could do with some posters of Gods and Goddesses ‘ was all his dad said . Suhas finished his course in four years to everyone’s amazement . His popularity was as big as big can be . Sure , his fans , saw him through !
The only guy in Petroleum engineering , third year was Sanjay Joshi . ‘By the time you finish your engineering , the world would have run out of Petrol ‘ , opined Suhas . A thin , boney scorpion – Sanjay was the most disliked of all . Dunno why . But , think that it was his caustic comments and his perennial attempts at contributing to conversations as a Devil’s Advocate . The only thing he had that none had in the hostel was a Yamaha Rx100 . Good for convenience . Better than the college bus for those of us who piggyrided on it . And Best for his dates .
There were also the first year threesome . All of whom were subject to our errand whims .
Finally , there was me . The fattest of the lot . One hundred and four kilos to be exact . The observer , said Bargi . The walking encyclopaedia , said Manjit . The angrezi aulaad , said Suhas . Pretty much summed me up .

Every evening , from the remnants of our afternoon chhapatis , Nandu , our versatile cook, would make a kind of poha . Have never eaten the dish again . So , that must have been one of his ingenious dishes . And a daily ritual followed . Nandu would chop onions , tomatoes and these leftover rotis and make them into a snack . This resulted in some great tea time discussions on women and movies .
On one winter evening , Maheswary , announced the wedding of his sister in Mumbai to another great Banker from an MNC bank . His sister was an MBA finance and so was her fiancée. A great match , we all said . The wedding was to be in Mumbai with great fanfare as befits a General Managers daughter . Maheswary listed out the invitee list . Sounded like the who’s who of Mumbai . All of us were awe struck . The man relished the attention we showered , which of course was partly due to what we thought was his lineage and where he would go in life . And his sister looked like a model . The subject was discussed daily .

Manjit started collecting the next day . Maheswary’s best pal was expected to do so . We debated the amount . Was a hundred rupees enough ? That would be seventeen hundred . What would one get in that ? Debates lasted one week . Day seven threw us the answer . A rupees two thousand porcelain dinner set . That was twenty five bucks more that the one hundred contribution earlier . We stretched our pockets . Month end was ten days away . And surely pocket monies in those times was much more regulated than now. We had a miserly thousand a month to make do . That needed to feed our laundry bills , food , entertainment and travel .
Manjit chose me to accompany him for the buy . Probably because we were both army brats . Probably , we connected well . Probably , I handled cash better ! I never knew that there was so much science in crockery . Dad and Mom had always isolated me from such buys . The crockery in the house was there and taken for granted . I never knew that there were porcelain , ceramic , glass , melamine and many intermittent variants . We checked lots of sets .Some even had designs , some had cartoons and some were handcrafted . There were twenty pieces in all . Finally , we bought a great set . Two thousand bucks , Nicely packaged , Signed by all . We unpacked it at the hostel , so all could see the real thing . Everyone was fine with it .
We gave it to Maheshwary a day before he left for Mumbai . He was an emotional cancerian . And so was completely floored . And happy . He thanked all . Promised that he’ll be back with great goodies . And he was gone .

Noone could attend his sisters wedding . The college announced a bunch of exams for different classes . Intrumentation guys got external exams . Petroleum guys got practicals . And Electronics guys went off on an education trip .
Maheswari came back in five days . And joined his exams . He got lots of sweets to eat and photographs to see . The guy was handsome and the bride was as beautiful as ever , radiant in a great saree . Said his sister was happily married and gone .They had left by the first flight the previous Monday to Europe for a nice holiday – honeymooning . They liked your gift , he said . Senti mat ban , Suhas shot at Maheswari .



Ten days later Sanjay Joshi announced the wedding of his sister in hometown Ratnagiri , somewhere deep in forests of Maharastra . It was an affair . His sister had eloped . His parents were angry . But , now everything was all right and they were being married . It was many kilometers from the nearest town .
This was the most wildest of tales . Gifting time again in ten days !
Something funny happened .
Noone was discussing this wedding . Sanjay would make it a point , over crushed rotis everyday , that the wedding was nearing . Noone was somehow ready to listen . The photographs of the groom ,Akshay , came one day . The guy was okay . Sanjay was a little taller than her sister . She looked like one complete village belle . Akshay was a struggling retailer . For some reason , his shop didn’t seem to do well . He had an old scooter and somehow made ends meet . But , love comes in all shapes and sizes , doesn’t check financials before it strikes . And it came in the form of Sanjay’s sister .
‘ My sister thinks he is the man ‘ said Sanjay , one late night as I sat behind his bike driving down to the theatre . We had to take turns booking tickets for the gang whenever a movie hit town . This one was ‘ QSQT ‘’ , a great hit , everyone had said .
‘ My sister also works at a typewriting institute . But she’s confident that they can build a life together . ‘ continued Sanjay .
‘Jab Miya Bibi raazi , to kya karega Kaazi ? ‘ said me with a pronounced enlightened effect . Suhas would have probably agreed with me .
Later , I discussed this with Bargi . He was also from a town pretty close to Ratnagiri . And he opined in private , not to be quoted , that he knew how things worked in that part of the country and that this marriage would not probably work .
But the strange thing continued . Noone discussed the wedding . And the prospect of footing the bill for another Porcelain set was unnerving to say the least , at this stage of the month . And we all thought that it had to be a porcelain set . And that was another one hundred and twenty five bucks .
Maheswary and Manjit were buzy with practicals . Hiten Dalal , the absent minded bloke , didn’t care whose wedding it was as long it wasn’t his . Prashant went out of town for a ‘pilgrimage’ with a girl of his class . Everyone seemed to miss each other all the time , and a couple of Nandu poha’s didn’t happen .
Two days left for Sanjay to go .
No sign of anyone leading the collection brigade . No porcelain discussions .
One day to go .
‘Guys , lets contribute and buy his sister a gift ‘, said Bargi , finally .
‘Babuwa , budget to hai hin nahin ’, Suhas said matter-of-factly , in his in your face style . Suhas had this dismissive way of handling most matters of whatever importance.
‘I gotto go ,’ said Manjit .
‘Nandu needs to be paid in two days ‘, said Hiten
‘Let’s just get him a card , this time ‘, opined Naigaonkar . Studious , banker’s son , solution provider .
Amin said nothing .
I just observed .
Two hours left .
Sanjay left by bus to Mumbai , from where he would take a bus to Ratnagiri . Finally , there was no card . No gift . No nothing . Sanjay’s sister wedding happened on the last Saturday of December . Both the familes weren’t completely reconciled . But , the wedding happened and the people settled down to accept them . They left for a short trip to Goa with Sanjay’s parents money . And Sanjay came back .

I thought about it for some time . Something didn’t fit . I didn’t know what .

An year back , I met Bargi . He runs a successful Computer parts business in Kolhapur . He’s a dealer for a big PC company . He’s married and has 2 kids . Alls hunky dory with this guy . Nothing can actually ever go wrong with a guy like him . He doesn’t ask much from life anyway .
I asked him over to my house for dinner .
‘Remember old days ‘ said he
‘ Oh yeah , ‘ I said . How’s everyone ?’
‘Most are in Mumbai . Naigaonkar and Amin are in the US ‘ said Bargi .
‘Anyone here ?’ said me
‘Well, Hiten is in Calcutta and Sanjay Joshi is in Ratnagiri .’
‘How’s his sister ? The one that ran away and married ’.
‘Oh , She’s doing wonderfully well . She owns a Computer training institute . They bought half a dozen computers from me . Her husband runs a big retail store in Ratnagiri . He’s moved from Electronics to Garments to Durables and now deals in all of them in one huge three storeyed complex . He’s doing great . They have 2 children and they all seem to be doing fine . ‘
‘Nice to know that all’s well’ .
We had dinner .
And an icecream by the roadside , just for old times sake .

Last week , I bumped into Maheswari in a restaurant in Bangalore . He was working for an Electronics company . We caught up on old times .
Manjit had married and had two sons . ‘Sonofagun doesn’t deserve sons ! ‘ shrieked Maheswari . ‘He has also moved to the US two years back . How the dickens he managed that , I’ll never know ’
I agreed .’ Manjit in the US is like Tintin in Tibet !
We laughed out aloud .
‘ How’s everything back home ? ‘ I asked , just generally .
‘Dad’s retired ‘,he said , ‘And my sister’s wedding is over ‘
‘What !?’ I was surprised . Shocked , actually .
‘ Yeah , that ass divorced her two years back . My sister was sick of him . He wouldn’t let my sister work .He wanted my sister to chuck her career , have kids and babysit . And my sister was just about to get the Western Region to manage . Things went pretty sore . It was quite miserable .’
‘Where’s he now ?’, I asked . Again , just generally .
‘ He’s gone to Singapore now . She’s in Mumbai . Now stays with my parents . ‘
‘That’s sad . ’, said me .

Something inside me churned . Struck by a little irony , perhaps .

workinprogress

Well , if you look down the tracks the view would probably be the same . In fact , the overhead low hanging electric lines hung between 2 wooden posts looked much more primitive than the overhead railyway electric networks in India . the stations looked pretty clean and functionally designed , different from the ones back home in Mumbai . the most striking element that hits you in any station is the number of people . Downtown Newyork Penn station on 33rd street , 8th avenue doesn’t have the kind of people in the whole hour what Andheri west would see in about a minute . The sum total of the daily commuters would probably not be less than the number of people in swanky Washington station in over a month . There are just not many people anywhere in the US. .The station at Rahway , next to the New Jersey International airport transit is deserted at most times of the day . A couple of onlookers would look at you in passing , not stare at you as they would do back home to visiting foreigners at the Gateway of India .
I walked upto the ticketing counter on the first floor station level . The old building was functionally repainted , adding luster to a normally staid station . Red & White . The ticket vending machine was sparkling clean . Miss the paan stains , paper crumbs , wafer packet stubs ,cigarette butts that outline every kind of public utility machine back home like postal letter boxes and waste bins . I punched my destination and $6.50 popped on the screen . I thrust a ten dollar bill to get back the change . Destination : New York Penn Station . The journey lasted 45 minutes . The ticket puncher did a strange marking of the ticket and left a little stub stuck on the loop on the front seat back .
‘What’s that for ?’ I asked
‘Well ,it’s a secret that ticket checkers will never tell ,’said the young ticket collector . He looked like an Indian and I could say he was an indian . He was very characteristically Indian , good expressive eyes , a wheatish complexion , and a measured gait . We walk differently . Americans would walk with a an attitude . Aggressive , well directed , purposeful .
‘Seriously , I want to know ‘ Said me . Had half a mind to shout an expletive in Hindi ‘Aye Shaane , bhaav mat kha !’ but I let that pass for a minute hoping he would respond this time .
‘ This is the way we know which seat is taken and where we need to check tickets next ‘
What the heck , that’s a pretty simple concept . Wonder why they don’t do that back home .
“Thanks ‘ , me said . I dropped the idea of asking him where he got his looks from . In fact , Indians in America don’t greet other Indians . They have some absurd concepts of self-respect in the occupations that they do .

Like that girl in Philly .
The waiter at the Punjabi restaurant on 18th avenue in Philadelphia was a beautiful looking Punjabi . I can bet on it . I did too . With gautam .
‘She can’t be an Indian ‘ said gautam . Gautam was a strange creature . Nothing in the world ever bothered him . He was the type who would take a vacation in the middle of the most high-pressured sales month . At best they’ll sack me . Atleast then I can live off my wife’s income for a while . Look after the kids and that sort of a thing .
‘She is . Wanna bet ‘
‘Okay , so what if she is ?’ ‘Expect Gautam to say this .
‘Nothing , we’ll just celebrate some Indian success ‘
‘Ask her ‘
‘You ask her ‘
‘I’m ok if she’s a Pakistani !’
‘Hey , ‘ I shouted out to her .
Must say she was beautiful . She was a little short . But there are a lot of short punjabi women . And , she had the sort of face that could stop a million people . Exquisitely crafted and naturally beautiful . She wouldn’t have applied any make-up , such was the elegance and charm . Sharp eyes and proud lips . She had well rounded breasts . Wholesome .Damn , she was a Punjabi . No two ways .
“ Hi , ‘ she said with a great smile and twinkle . ‘ What will you have ?’
No , she didn’t say coffee , tea or me . Or well , in a different sort of way , she would have said it . Let’s leave it at that for a moment .’
‘ We have been having this fight ‘
‘Fight ?’
‘Yes , I am saying that you are a Punjabi , he says you are not ‘
She was agitated and how.
Her expressions turned very stern . She looked through us , sharpening her gaze .It was like something she had been hiding successfully had come out in the open . Her life was a sudden open book . And the world was reading it .
‘I am an Italian ‘ she said , in a manner that reflected a deep wound .
Damn . A Caucasian !
I scrutinized further . She had to be a Punjabi .She was too Indian to be an Italian .
‘What the heck ‘ muttered Gautam . And gave her a wry smiled .
I gave up too . Another Indian running away from Indianess , I said .
‘Gautam , Indians in the US have an attitude larger than they should . They don’t smile at other Indians . They are rude and they don’t identify themselves correctly ‘, you just saw that .’
‘Back home in Kandivali too , women have an attitude larger than they should , they don’t smile at me ,they are rude and never identify with me ! ‘
She had gone away without taking an order . We called another waitress for the order .
‘Now , where are you from ?’, I asked her
‘mexico ‘
Could be true . She looked like one .
‘Why do these guys not accept indianity ? I asked an old indian restauranter in hindi . This was called ‘ jewel of India ‘ and unabashadely played hindi songs and had indian waiters with a pure Punjabi accent .
‘ It’s like this , he explained ‘ they have risked bigtime to survive in here . Some retain identities , some don’t . Some think they are superior just because of the magnitude of risk they have taken incoming here and settling down . Sameer is Sam , Anand is Andy and Prithiwiraj is peter .’
‘Not all change their names though ‘ I said .
‘ Look at me . I am still called Chopra in the neighbourhood .’
Gautam jumped in with a thought ‘ Let’s see if we can actually meet an Indian who is polite ‘ Remember , we still have 10 days left ‘
That was the most promising positive thing Gautam had said in ages .
The train speeded through what looked like a creek . The back waters of the Atlantic lying still around the east American shores .The sun was going to come up anytime.
A massive black women came and sat next to me . Her hair was braided very badly and she stank of aweful filth . But she was happily munching away what looked like a huge burger that she could have bought . Am sure she had bought it , as she had the packet neatly tucked with tissues and ketchup sachets . She kept nibbling at it and when she reached the last bit of the burger , she actually thrust the entire burger bits , crumpled tissues with lip smears neatly into the bag and pushed it into the seat-back bag . She looked at me and grinned . Hi , she said , inaudibly . Pretty polite , I thought .That’s the other thing , people are polite . People in the Us are polite . Businesslike . Professional . Dumb . But polite .
I looked out of the window . Was it picturesque . Partly . Some huge factories . Some wonderful parking lots . beautifully landscaped houses . Swept clean roads .

The station at penn , New York was thebusiest of them all . Thousands came of the train suddenly . The platform was swarming with people . It was nothing like Victoria terminus at 9am . Much more polished perhaps . At 9 , Victoria terminus is a plethora of extremely agitated bees buzzing to get out of a hive . And there’s a constant continous surge out of most trains with noone getting to go anywhere . The city does turn pretty uni-directional in the morning and evening rush hours .New York didn’t seem like that .
‘ What a small crowd for a Monday morning . Does noone work here ?, said sardonic gautam
It was true . There are more people per square feet in Mumbai .
Time for some math ‘ I said . I walked upto the nearest train station enquiry .