My mom sent me out to buy bananas. "I want slightly unripe ones. Bananas that will be perfect for eating tomorrow"
Ok.
"Tell him 'kal ke liye chahiye', ok?"
Mom, I'm 56 years old. I am married. I have two grown up sons. I have lived all my life in Bombay. I KNOW what to tell him
I reach the guy's stall. A WhatsApp message arrives on my phone. Full of some really crazy stuff about how China, Russia, America, the middle East and Nehru are the ones responsible for the current situation. I write a stinging reply on the group, heaping scorn. The banana guy
is waiting for my order. "Ek darjan kela" I tell him. I have more scorn to heap, so I continue.
Back home, mom says "these bananas are ripe. I need slightly under ripe ones. You didn't tell him?"
I did, I lie.
Mom: "Ok. Go tell him again. Tell him 'kal ke liye chahiye', ok?"
I go to him and tell him 'Kal ke liye chahiye'.
"Pehle batana tha na?"
He exchanges the bananas and I get back home.
And as I'm walking back, I reflect. You know, they're right. China, Russia, America, the middle east and Nehru, they ARE responsible for everything. Why, they
even managed to make me get the wrong bananas.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
My dad, who passed away recently, had one incredible quality. He was just not afraid of dying in the way the rest of us are. Let me give an example. Way back, in 2001, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. The treatment was radical. They would remove half his jaw and most of the
tissue surrounding it. There was a problem though. Just the year before, he had had angina and chose not to have a bypass surgery. The oncosurgeon warned that while the mandible surgery itself was quite straightforward, his heart condition posed a significant risk. My mom and I
were there with him when the doctor said that. He was characteristically nonchalant. "If we don't do this surgery it's 100% death, right? And if we do it, it's only a 50% chance that I'll die. We'll go ahead and do it".
"Get these tests done" said the surgeon "and get admitted
I was chatting on a friends group and as we shared anecdotes, I remembered this one. Many of the details are hazy so I've left out specifics but this is what broadly happened.
We used to live in a hostel called the D blocks. These were at the edge of the campus and beyond them
was a barren, rocky waste. In the evening, all the wise and worthy of MIT Manipal would gather here and basically stare at the aforementioned waste.
On one such day, someone had a brainwave. "Let's perform an experiment", he said.
This experiment was to determine if dogs get drunk, and if they did, to observe what happened when they did. A suitable dog, a friendly chap who used to hang with us, was chosen.The plan was to mix some alcohol into a little milk and make the dog drink it.
I'm not usually given to dark, depressing thoughts - indeed, the sunniness of my disposition has been known to elicit comment from actual rays of sunshine - but I must confess I feel low this morning. Why, you ask? Well, two incidents. First one - a month or so ago, a bunch of us
college friends on a zoom call decided to get some tee-shirts made with stuff written on it that would evoke memories. One of our classmates living in California got them made and decided to ship them to everyone, including those of us living in India. He decided to ship them to
me and I could then ship them to the others. A grand total of ten customized tee-shirts. The shipment should have reached me in three days. It took three weeks. Why? Because it was stopped by the customs. Because it did not have an invoice. So I wrote a nice letter saying they