Keeping an Eye on Technology Futures, No Hidden Agendas, New Attitudes, No Platitudes!
In Bangalore, I always stay with my brother John, now the patriarch and center of gravity for our extended family. The home where we were born has now been replaced by a high-rise hotel, and John has moved with his lovely wife Clarrie into a luxury apartment not far away. As host, John gives me first-dibs to relax in my Dad's old easy-chair, an iPod-like cradle which re-charges my batteries.
In India, people never phone when they visit - they just visit. When the doorbell rings, it could be family, friends or just about anyone. I got to enjoy the warmth, love and friendship of countless cousins, nephews, nieces, aunties, uncles (in India, everyone older than you is called aunty, or uncle). Of course, it felt strange when some cute young things called me "uncle". Whatodo?
We celebrated John's 75th birthday, and my 71st, at the Bangalore Club, a thriving throwback to the days of the British Raj, where memberships are still restricted only to those who know somebody who knows somebody. Of course, John is a bigwig and we got the full treatment. John told me it was a "small party with close friends"; but in India "small" doesn't mean 10 or 25 - more like 250.
Gosh, it was wonderful to see close cousins and boyhood friends, and their kids (now grown up) and grandkids. Many affectionate "Jimmy, do you remember me?" queries received only my blank stare, till suddenly the neurons clicked with recognition. I've gotta tell you, there were some cute chicks who had turned into fat, ugly old ladies. But, there were lots of cute old girl-friends around too.
Taste buds have long memories too. There was always a tantalizing array of foods, served up at home by John's wife Clarrie, and by family and friends during the endless chain of visits and parties. In India, Love is demonstrated with food, and hospitality means second and third servings; if you don't serve yourself, you'll be served. And then, just when you think you're completely full, John (who loves sweets) brings out hot jilaybis and ludoos made for him specially at the shop owned by the son of one of his golfing buddies. Delightful gastronomic torture!
Just a few days before I left India, I attended a wedding. Mind you, not just any wedding, but the joining of two historical Bangalore families. My parents (Albert & Rosalie Pinto) had 10 children; and the locally well-known PG D'Souza family had 17. I knew several PG children, and am probably the only outsider who can recite all 17 names (it's like an old poem that I can't forget). Anyway, AM Pinto's eldest daughter's eldest daughter's eldest daughter was getting married to PG D'Souza's eldest son's eldest son's eldest son. The bride and groom are the handsomest couple you can imagine, both with juicy jobs in England.
Everyone who is anyone was there - about 750 gathered in the grounds of a luxurious hotel. I've gotta tell you, it was a bucket-list dejavu experience. My class-mates and close friends from 50 years ago were all there, and I could imagine myself being one of them. But still, I'm glad I'm me.
This love, warmth and affection of my extended family was a significant part of my bucket-list. Of course, since I don't plan to 'kick the bucket' anytime soon, I'll be back again and again, for more.
